Desperate Souls
by Ravenclaw992
Summary: "Emma...what a lovely name." So it began. Two desperate souls, their paths crossing time and again, their stories intertwined. Meant to be a one-shot collection for all things Golden Swan. Mostly humorous.
1. A Thing of Beauty

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Emma and Gold, nor do I own anything from the show Once Upon a Time. This is purely for entertainment. **_

_**A/N: Since I just finished my story Sunshine and Rain, I wanted to continue writing for Golden Swan by doing a one-shot collection specifically for the pairing. My one-shot collection for Rumbelle was popular, so I decided to go ahead with this one. Partly inspired by BundyShoes' "The Stories That Make Us." If anyone is interested in reading Golden Swan, I highly recommend you check it out. **_

_**Enjoy! **_

_**A Thing of Beauty**_

Emma Swan had been in Storybrooke for nearly two weeks before she realized she hadn't ever stepped foot inside Gold's pawnshop. Maybe that was because she had little interest in crossing paths with the creepy, manipulative dealmaker after the debacle with Ashley's baby. Every time she got close to him, she felt like a bug squirming in a spider's sticky web, with no escape.

Henry had given her a personal tour of the town soon after her arrival, but he skipped over the pawnshop, his only explanation being that it belonged to Gold. As far as she knew, the entire town belonged to that man. He and Regina constantly fought over it like two children with a shiny new toy. Gold cast a long, daunting shadow over the town and anyone that walked in his presence walked with their head down. No one ever went in or out of that shop except for the owner, though she suspected some might visit once the sun set if they were desperate to make a deal.

The more she passed the shop, the more curious she became.

It might have been because she hadn't lived in Storybrooke as long as anyone else, but Gold did not instill fear in her. Only mild annoyance and curiosity. What she saw was a man that knew he was rich and powerful, flaunting it every chance he got. A man that was a gentleman when he wanted to be, but still had skeletons in his closet. Skillful, charismatic, dangerous.

And that cane? Definitely used for more than just a bad leg.

Finally Emma gave in. One morning, after making sure that Henry boarded his bus, her feet carried her all the way to Gold's door. At the very least, it would satisfy her curiosity about the place, if not the man that owned it.

The large, off-white sign hanging above her head bore the name of the shop in dark gold letters: _Mr. Gold's Antiques. _The display window was cluttered with a variety of items including furniture, paintings, a windmill, baubles and trinkets alike. It should have lured people in, but the reputation of Storybrooke's most powerful citizen overshadowed any desire to go beyond the stage of window-shopping.

When Emma pushed open the door, with the _Open _sign slapping over the glass, a bell jingled above her head. She winced, realizing it was there to announce the presence of customers. No turning back now. It was uncomfortably cool inside. Her boots thumped over the floorboards with every step she took. It was silent enough to hear a pin drop; no background music, no noise of activity on the streets, not even a creak to suggest where the owner was.

How could a man with a cane be so silent on his feet?

It could have been a trick of her imagination, but she swore that curtain moved.

Like the shop's window, the inside of the shop was bursting with antiques. Guitars, violins, and artwork she didn't recognize covered the walls. A canoe and a bike were suspended by cords from the ceiling. In the display cases she noticed a tea set, a vintage Mickey Mouse phone, a set of rings, and an old handheld mirror. A case of knives, a globe yellowed with age, and six painted mugs lined the top of the display case.

There was also a macabre pair of dolls, their wooden faces twisted in horror. If anyone dared to enter the shop, it was likely the sight of those dolls would drive them out.

The object that most drew Emma's attention was a baby mobile hovering over one of the display cases. It was crafted entirely out of glass, with delicate unicorns dangling and rocking back and forth. When the sunlight hit it just right, a pattern of rainbows danced over the display case. It seemed like it belonged in a fantasy world instead of a small-town pawnshop.

For some reason, Emma was hit with a sense of deja vu. She got the feeling...this wasn't the first time she had seen the baby mobile. Had it been part of a picture in Henry's storybook? She recalled the pages she had tossed in Archie's fireplace and regretted not being able to check again.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the mobile, a finger outstretched to touch one of the unicorns. It swung lightly on its string, galloping through the air.

"Beautiful," a voice shattered the silence, though it was soft in tone. It hadn't come from Emma's lips. She spun around to see Gold standing at the curtain, cane in hand, watching her with a little smirk.

"Excuse me?" Somehow, she didn't think he meant the mobile. For one thing, he barely gave it a second glance, every ounce of his attention devoted to her. The smirk grew. The way his brown eyes scrolled over her from head-to-toe made her feel exposed. It felt like he had the ability to peer beneath her skin, peer straight into her heart.

"The baby mobile, of course. You were admiring it. It's quite a thing of beauty." _Sure. That's what you meant. _"What else would I be talking about, _Em-ma_?"

...

_**As with my Rumbelle one-shot collection, I'd be happy to take any requests for one-shots you want to see. Mostly, my one-shots will end up being light and humorous, but I am open to all requests. I hope everyone will enjoy reading them as much as I will enjoy writing them. **_

_**For those who have read my Sunshine story, I mentioned that I may be inclined to do a sequel. I'm still playing around with several ideas for one and this one-shot collection will just be a way for me to continue writing Golden Swan while I think it over. I promise not to take too long, though I don't want to rush into a sequel without some good idea of what I want to do with it. All I ask is for patience and support. (-; **_


	2. Traces

_**A/N: This one-shot was a request from 1994omi. The request involved the way Rumpel and Bae merged as one body in season 3 and what would happen if there were traces of Bae's feelings for Emma inside Rumpel. I hope everyone enjoys it. **_

_**Traces**_

It wasn't a secret that Rumpel liked Emma. As a matter of fact, he told her so himself the first week she arrived in Storybrooke, so long ago. He considered her a worthy ally and respected her deep sense of honor and cocky attitude. They weren't exactly friends-friends didn't threaten friends with a punch to the face-and he never thought of her as anything more than the savior. A means to an end.

All of that changed without warning one night, shortly after Zelena's defeat.

One night, a little past two in the morning according to the alarm clock, he woke covered in sweat, with a pillow bunched against his chest like a lover. The muscles below his waist were painfully tight and throbbing. He had a dream about Emma. In his dream, she'd been here with him, smiling with an unspoken invitation, writhing beneath him as he kissed her passionately.

All along, he had been squeezing the pillow to his chest, stroking it and kissing it while moaning Emma's name.

Rumpel tossed away the pillow and sat up, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow with his arm. Tossing back the covers, and making sure not to stir Belle in the process, he headed for the bathroom to take a warm shower. It was a miracle he hadn't cuddled with Belle and called her the wrong name. Not exactly the way to start his marriage off.

Come to think of it, a cold shower would probably be better. He could barely walk the short distance to the bathroom and it had nothing to do with the limp in his leg.

_What the hell is wrong with me? Where did this come from? _He never experienced any sexual or romantic attraction to Emma before and certainly not of this magnitude. It was a puzzle that kept his mind buzzing for the rest of the night.

...

The next morning, during his quiet walk to Granny's Diner for a cup of tea before heading to his shop, he glimpsed Emma through the window. She was having breakfast with her parents, Henry, and the new baby. If he had been crossing the street, he swore he would have stopped in his tracks and been hit by a car. If anyone happened to be driving a car in Storybrooke these days.

His heart raced in his chest, so hard that he feared it might explode. A pleasurable sensation slid down his spine and danced along every nerve, all the way to his toes. He thought about how beautiful she was, with her golden curls shining in the sunlight. He thought about how happy she looked and how he wanted to share that happiness with her.

Somehow, his feet had carried him to the door of Granny's Diner and he pulled it open. The bell above the door jingled, but most of the customers kept their heads bent low, trying not to bring attention to their tables.

Before he could regain any common sense or control over his body, he strode straight over to Emma's table. It was like a golden string had looped around his waist, dragging him to her side. Logic kicked into his brain again when she glanced up at him, her green eyes darkening with suspicion.

They all glanced up, their frowns mirrored on their faces, their heads tilted slightly as they collectively wondered what he was standing there for. He never came to them without a reason, often a dire one, and vice versa.

He did not belong there at their table. There would never be a seat reserved for him. Only Bae, or Neal as they preferred to call him, and he was gone.

"Can I help you?" Emma asked tentatively. Oh, that was a loaded question.

When she spoke, he focused on the movement of her pink lips, so soft in appearance despite her hard shell. He wondered what she would taste like this morning. Hot chocolate and cinnamon? What would she do if he dared to lean down, take her by the shoulders, and kiss her right here and now? There was a terrible craving encouraging him to do it.

He had to say something, even if his throat was lined with sandpaper. They were staring and growing more concerned with each passing second. Even the baby, named Neal after his lost son, was beginning to fidget and cry.

"Emma," he choked out. He relished the way her name rolled off his tongue. _Such a lovely name. _"I wanted to say..." _I love you. _No! None of that. He loved _Belle, _not Emma. The only thing that admission would earn him was Charming's sword. "I wanted to say good morning."

Not the most clever of excuses, but it didn't raise any questions.

"Okay. Good morning," she returned the favor.

It was clear from her tense tone that she wanted him to leave. No one offered him to sit and have breakfast. There was nothing left for him there except unexplainable longing for a woman that was not his to hold. So he abruptly turned and fled the diner before he could continue making a fool of himself.

As he strolled along Storybrooke's main street, slowly inching toward his shop, he let his mind wnader. His cheeks still burned from that ridiculous scene in the diner.

Why was he feeling this way about Emma all of a sudden? What in the world made him think he could sit across from her at that table and share her morning? Bae was the one that loved her, not him.

Rumpel stopped walking, even though he was a foot from the door of his shop.

That was it.

Bae.

For a year, he had shared a body with his son, which felt as peculiar as it sounded. They were fused into one entity magically. Their thoughts, feelings, memories, and natural urges intertwined until they could not be separated. It was the only way Rumpel knew to keep Bae alive after paying the price to bring him back to life.

Bae was gone, their bodies separate once more. This must be a side effect. When two beings merged, it was nearly impossible to separate everything that belonged to one or the other. If there were traces left behind...

...such as powerful, romantic feelings for Emma...

It was no use fighting it. Those feelings were now ingrained in his system. If Bae was alive, they might have been able to find a way to cure some of these side effects since Bae would have earned some of his mannerisms as well.

He was alone. His heart continued beating and with it came the whisper of Emma's name.

He knew what had to be done.

...

He waited for a chance to get her alone. The opportunity came when Emma went to the station to perform her duties as Storybrooke's Sheriff. Only she and her father commanded the station at any time, taking shifts so that Charming could spend time with his newborn son during the day.

For a few hours at least, Emma was alone, unless Hook paid a visit or Grumpy reverted to his former cursed behavior with the common magic of this world known as whiskey.

Rumpel entered the station and was thankful to find Emma sitting alone at her desk, boots up, a newspaper in her lap. There was rarely anything important in the newspaper now that Zelena was gone. A fresh box of donuts was open on the desk and Emma was chewing on a bear claw.

When she looked up and saw him there, she folded up the newspaper and placed the donut on the desk, half-eaten. She rose from her chair and approached him cautiously, ready to do what was necessary if he started acting strange again.

"This is the second time you've sought me out today," she pointed out, leaning on the corner of the desk. "I'm guessing there's something you need to tell me in private. Shoot."

He licked his lips nervously. He had never done anything like this before and it required all the courage he could muster. What would she do? Would she understand? There was only one way to find out.

"Not exactly."

Emma became alarmed, rising from the desk as if she expected him to do something drastic. She wasn't wrong. The way she stood up gave him the chance he needed to bring his hands to her face, his fingers delving into her blonde hair.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he brought his lips down over hers, kissing her with all the affection he-or rather, Bae-felt for her. He didn't know what was more surprising: the fact that he enjoyed kissing her or the way she responded. Her hands rushed to his arms, attempting to pry him off. It was a weak effort and soon her lips had parted, allowing him deeper access into her mouth.

She started to kiss back. Or was it only his imagination?

When the kiss broke, they were both breathing heavily. Emma blinked rapidly, obviously confused. He couldn't say he blamed her. The taste of her lingered on his lips and he savored it. She did taste like cinnamon.

"What the hell was that for?" She was breathless, but she still managed to sound irritated.

"My son," he answered. When the sadness threatened to glaze her eyes, he added, for good measure: "You should know...you were the thing he loved most in this world." Then he turned and walked out of the station, his mind finally quiet.

_I passed along your message, Bae. Rest in peace. _

...


	3. Siren

_**A/N: The idea for this one-shot came to me a while ago, when I was planning to do a Golden Swan one-shot collection. I had it half-written, so I decided to finish it up. I wondered what woud happen if Rumpel ever came across a siren, especially if it transformed into Emma. As always, I appreciate the reviews I have received so far. (-; **_

_**Siren**_

Rumpel would have liked to say it was nice to be home, but he would be lying.

Emma had brought them back to the Enchanted Forest, as per her destiny, but it was a far cry from the land they left behind. It was devastated by the curse, every castle crumbling, every inch of soil hopelessly dry. Even his castle had been ravaged by the few people that hadn't carried over with the curse.

Everyone tried to take comfort in the fact that families remained intact and that they could rebuild their homes. He used magic to fix his castle and he was gracious enough to do the same for Snow and Charming's beloved waterside castle. It was the least he could do for them.

For her.

Emma.

The last time he saw her, she had been surrounded by her family, marveling over the glorious castle that once would have been her home. She deserved comfort, happiness. He hadn't given her a chance to thank him for repairing the castle, because then he would have to watch her walk away and forget him.

So he did what he did best: he ran back to the sanctuary of his own castle.

All this he mulled over while wandering aimlessly through the desecrated land. He had no set destination in mind and he had to clear his head of all these troubling thoughts. They warranted no peace.

His feet carried him to the edge of a lake, the surface glittering in the moonlight. As the water lapped over his boots, the center of the lake began to bubble. Something rose from underneath the surface-the willowy figure of a beautiful woman, seductively draped in a blood-red gown.

A siren.

"Good evening, Rumpelstiltskin," she called in a sweet voice. This siren had a milky heart-shaped face framed by silky, dark spirals. A light pink blush warmed the apples of her cheeks. Her blue eyes glowed as brightly as the water in which she waded. An inviting smile formed on her soft ruby lips. She walked toward him slowly, in a way that emphasized the rolling of her hips.

Any reasonable man would desire such a creature and be led to their doom.

Unfortunately, he was a man that would not take just any woman into his arms. Rumpel was never impressed with sirens. He stuck his nose in the air and scoffed at this one.

"What are you? Siren number 180 and counting? Did you hear what happened to your sister siren down at Lake Nostos?" He had to applaud Charming for being able to see through the siren's charm and do her in. If any guy were to fall head over heels for a mirror image of his truly beloved, Rumpel thought it would have been him.

The siren approached him and dared to stroke her hands up and down his leather-clad arms. He felt nothing close to arousal. Just increasing annoyance. He didn't have time or patience for this nonsense.

"Yes, it is unfortunate. All thanks to Prince Charming. Unlike her, I never fancied the handsome, good men in this world. I prefer dancing on the dark side. Don't you agree?"

Her hands worked their way over his chest, to the patch of exposed skin near his neck, all the while purring in his ear. He swatted her away like a bothersome fly, much to her dissatisfaction.

"Not a single siren in this land has ever been able to charm me. You won't be the first, dearie," he growled. The siren pouted her pretty lips. Even that was meant to be alluring, he suspected. Everything she did was part of a twisted, lustful game.

"You're so confident. I like it." She bent over at the waist, offering him a good view of her cleavage, and scooped up a handful of water. She poured it over her head. When the rivulets of water rolled over her skin, her features transformed into someone new. He found himself face-to-face with his first wife, Milah.

Now he _definitely _wasn't aroused. Any remaining affection he had for his wife died centuries ago.

"How do you like me now?" She asked, in Milah's grating voice. The siren had plucked the memory of Milah from his head without bothering to examine all the details. A mistake, on her part.

"If you're aiming for a death wish, you're doing wonderfully," he hissed. The siren finally looked frightened of what he could do. Once more she bent to collect the water at her bare feet, determined to locate the chink in his armor. He feigned a bored yawn. "If your next model is Cora, you'll only be wasting your time. Those flames have all gone out."

The dark halo of hair brightened. A stream of gold flashed through his vision, the curls hanging beautifully around her face. Her eyelids parted and he stared into a familiar set of emerald eyes, full of fire and strength. Eyes that were capable of unraveling him and piercing his heart.

_No..._

The siren smiled victoriously when he remained speechless. She hid behind Emma's hardened features, dangling her in front of him like a piece of meat he could never have. For the first time, he felt something stirring below his waist.

_ No, no, no!_

"Now?" She whispered, bringing her mouth close to his ear. He felt her breath tickle his skin. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, rooting him to the spot. "Is this more your taste?"

Taste.

A fantasy unfolded in his head, making everything _down there _even tighter. He wondered how Emma tasted. It would be so easy to turn his head, capture her lips before she could object...

No! This wasn't real. He was the Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin, the beast that roamed this land. He was not a lovesick fool like Charming. He assumed he would be immune to the charm of a siren, but as usual he underestimated the functioning of his heart. At the moment, it longed desperately for this being that was not Emma.

"You're not her," he roared, more for his own sake than this incessant siren. He backed away, his eyes roving over her attractive frame. "For one thing, I've never seen Emma in a dress."

He motioned to the red dress that embraced her every curve, leaving little to the imagination. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing Emma in that dress-he did. It just wasn't something she would store in her wardrobe or pick out for herself. Her style was layers of leather, her legs forever encased in jeans, her feet protected by scuffed boots. The Emma he knew would despise that dress.

The siren did away with the dress. The smooth fabric shrank and hardened into a leather jacket, red as blood. The skirt split apart, slimming down to a pair of worn blue jeans. Only her feet remained bare in the water.

"I can be her," the siren vowed. She began to circle him enticingly, her fingertips teasing his neck, weaving through his hair, caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes and struggled to remember that the real Emma was miles away, not giving him a single thought. "Imagine it. Someone you've always wanted, but never quite had. Remember the first night we met?"

_We? There is no we. _

_You're not her. _

_ You can't be. _

"I remember every second I spent with...her." His tongue had been an inch away from betraying him, but he managed to spit out _her _instead of _you. _He could tell the siren was miffed when she massaged his tense shoulders. Would she ever quit?

"You liked my name." Her palms felt heavenly on his shoulders, working out the knots with extraordinary ease. It was getting harder to seperate this fantasy from reality. It _sounded _like Emma, it _looked _like Emma, and now it _felt _like her.

"It was the key. _Em-ma. _Still a lovely name." She curled her arm around his chest and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"That's right. I'm the key. Your savior. The product of true love. You've always imagined what it would be like to deserve someone like me, to be the one man to whom I give my love, to be the one worthy of spending each night in my arms..." She was feeding the fantasy in his head, spinning him promises with sugar-coated words. The more she spoke, the more his head tilted back, and her fingers threaded through his hair. "You only imagined it. What if I told you that now is your chance to have it? All your desires fulfilled. All you have to do...is kiss me, Rumpel."

She circled him once more, coming full-circle to stand before him. Her hands gently took his face and her lips sought out his. Unbeknownst to her, everything had changed with a single word. The fantasy disintegrated into dust.

This wasn't real.

Gritting his teeth angrily, he stopped the siren from sealing the deal by wrenching her head back with a fistful of blonde hair. She squeezed her eyes shut in pain and her hand flew to his fist, trying to shake it loose. It was a hopeless effort.

"Rumpel, please-" She pleaded, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Stop! You are not her," he shouted. It wasn't denial; he knew for certain that this was an illusion. "Emma never called me that. This world was her birthplace, but it was not her home. She may be the savior, _my _savior, but she was first and foremost a woman who had seen too much of the world's cruelty, a woman hiding behind walls so thick even a dwarf's pickaxe could not chip them. She is special, beautiful, powerful, but never saw it for herself. Instead, she considered herself lonely, sad, unloved. And you know why? Because I was selfish enough to rip her from her parents' arms and place her in a world where she did not belong, all for the sake of finding my son. For my happiness, I sacrificed hers. That, _dearie_, is why I shall never deserve her. I am the man who makes too many mistakes. Just to prove it-"

With her hair still caught in his fist, he thrust the other hand in her chest, his fingers clawing for her beating heart. A scream tore out of her throat when he ripped it out. The heart had several blots of black marring the red tissue. Focusing solely on her heart, he crushed it in his fist. A stream of dust spilled at his feet.

He released the siren. Her lifeless body sank into the water. It no longer resembled Emma. At the moment of her death, she regained her true face-the dark-haired beauty that first rose from the water. It was nothing but an illusion.

Haunted by his dark thoughts, he turned and headed back the way he came, back to his castle where he would spend the night alone.

...


	4. Truth or Dare

_**A/N: Sorry if the last couple of one-shots were more angst than fluff. This one should be a little lighter. I had some fun writing it. I hope everyone enjoys it, too. Special thanks go to orthankg1, Marcie Gore, 1994omi, saaycheesse, and klausgirl4055 for their reviews so far. I adore every word. **_

_**Truth or Dare**_

"Truth or dare?"

Even though she was a willing participant in this game, Emma didn't quite know how this game had started. Obviously he took it to heart that she wasn't afraid of a challenge.

Together they walked out of Granny's Diner and kept up a peaceful pace down the street. They had coffee, but only because he offered to pay for hers when she realized her cash was in the pocket of another pair of jeans, back at Mary Margaret's place. She was always in the habit of stuffing crumpled bills in her pockets and then forgetting to remove them when she next went out.

It was only coffee, so she said yes. A mere three dollars and fifty cents that she could pay back. Well, _she _had coffee and Gold ordered tea.

Somehow, they got to talking.

And then to playing this game. Presumably, this was the way she would return the favor, by indulging in a childish yet personal game of truth or dare.

"Hmm..." Emma hummed, her lips closed over the rim of her coffee cup. The bitter fluid washed down her throat and coated the roof of her mouth. She wanted to take her time in choosing an option. If she chose truth, who knew what Gold would ask? If she chose dare, who knew what he would request her to do? "Dare."

"You've chosen dare every time," he noted with slight annoyance.

"My choice, remember?" She cocked her head and waited for his challenge. Like her, he took his sweet time mulling it over, but she wasn't worried. Let him do his worst.

"The next time you cross paths with Regina, I dare you to..." This ought to be good. Egg her house? Cut down her apple tree? Stuff ice cubes down her shirt? "Shove one of her precious apples in her mouth. Take a picture with your phone as proof. With any luck, that will silence her in regards to her favoritism of apples."

Unlikely. That woman went on full rants and lectures about the beauty and strength of apples. In her home, her office, and practically everywhere she treaded, there were bowls of apples to be found. It made Emma never want to touch or look at an apple again.

"Done," she agreed, if only to see the look on Regina's face when she found an apple stuck in her mouth like a suckling pig. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth." Emma knew that was coming.

"You complain about me forever choosing dare. You never stop choosing truth." The man must be afraid of a good challenge. Too unpredictable, especially coming from her. Wordplay was his strong point; whatever she asked, he could find a clever way of answering without giving too much away.

"My choice," he echoed her words.

Emma sighed dramatically before downing the rest of the contents in her cup. As they passed a sewer, Emma smashed the cup in her fist and dropped it inside the grate. Her mind buzzed with potential questions, but none were good enough.

"Do you really need that cane to walk?" She jutted her chin to the gold-tipped cane by his side. A rhythmic tapping accompanied his steps on the sidewalk.

After seeing the way he beat Moe French to an inch of his life, she had a theory that Gold depended on it for more than just his leg. More than a crutch, it was a deadly weapon and he never went anywhere without it.

"The beauty of my cane is that it has more than one use," he drawled. Swinging his cane into the air, he slid a fond hand over the length of it. That didn't answer her question. Emma continued to stare at him. "No, I do not necessarily need my cane for walking."

She knew it. It was fulfilling to hear him admit it.

"Truth or dare? I've already got a challenge in mind," he warned. Emma stuffed her hands into the pockets of her red leather jacket, protecting them from the occasional biting breeze.

This time, she barely required two seconds before making up her mind.

"Truth," she said, loud and clear.

As expected, it took him by surprise. He had prepared to unleash his dare on her, only to have his mouth fall open and he did a double-take. Up and down, his chocolate-brown eyes surveyed her while he mentally questioned if it was really Emma Swan standing there beside him.

"In that case...what do you think of me?"

Emma grimaced. She had expected a question about her first kiss, her childhood, or whether she had any secret tattoos. The only tattoo being the flower on her wrist. This was a question she had no clue how to answer, especially when he walked with her less than a foot away. A fingertip away, actually.

"On second thought, I choose dare," she announced. Gold appeared disappointed, but did not argue.

"Very well. I dare you to answer my question. What do you think of me?" Emma stopped in her tracks and whirled to face him. As someone who made deals almost daily, Gold was an expert at finding loopholes. It shouldn't have surprised her, but her eyes boggled.

"That's cheating!"

"So is changing your mind when you've already chosen truth," he fired back. They stood there facing each other for what felt like an eternity. Gold's hands were calmly folded over the top of his cane and a patient smile mocked her. Emma crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled curses under her breath. "My, I certainly hope those names aren't meant for me."

If it was the truth he wanted...

"I think..." She ran her fingers over her scalp, as though she could rip the thoughts straight out of her head and place them in his hands. "I think you're incredibly shady and dangerous most of the time. You make deals with everyone you meet instead of doing something out of the kindness of your heart. The coffee included. You speak in riddles. I think you're lonely in that pink house of yours, but you have no idea how to remedy it. You have walls that refuse to crumble, just like me. You are...intelligent, charismatic, a gentleman when it suits you. You are a mystery. Probably one of the most interesting people I've met in Storybrooke."

He blinked in awe. Clearly, he hadn't expected that thorough of an answer.

"Really?" He gasped. His brain was practically fried with disbelief. She'd never seen him so shocked about anything. Most people would have settled for calling him 'creepy.' "Is that all?"

"And you wear those expensive suits well," she added as a last thought. His hand stroked his tie, his face a blank slate now that she had admired his attire. His eyes got this far-off look, his mind lost in some void of amazement.

"Truth or dare?" She asked, forcing him to return to reality. That cunning glow spread through his eyes again. He was back.

"Dare," he said boldly. So he decided to surprise her, too. Since this was the first time he chose dare, she'd go easy on him.

"I dare you to walk the rest of the way without your cane." It was a chance to prove that he didn't need his cane at all, that it was an accessory more than a necessity.

"Only if you hold it for me." He surrendered his cane to her and she couldn't help twirling it between her hands like an oversized baton. For the first few steps, he limped profusely and stumbled. Gradually, he found his footing. The limp was hardly noticeable now. "Truth or dare, Miss Swan?"

"Dare," she said. Back to her familiar pattern. That was when she recalled the challenge he had in mind before she chose truth. That grin on his face alarmed her, a tiny tendril of apprehension slithering down her neck.

"I dare you to kiss me. To make it clear, right here, right _now_."

Strangely, his body didn't pivot in her direction, making it hard for her to take him seriously. Did he think she wouldn't agree to do it? That she would give up this game? _I never refuse a challenge. _

The cane clattered on the sidewalk. Taking ahold of his shoulders, she guided him to face her. Then her hands wrapped around his neck and she pressed her lips to his. They were surprisingly soft and warm, though unmoving due to the instant shock that froze his body in place.

It was meant to be a short kiss, a simple peck before they moved on. When she pulled back, however, his hand cupped the back of her head, keeping her less than an inch away. Questions and excitement riddled his face. Then his mouth was on hers again, sliding smoothly as velvet. His tongue darted out to trace her bottom lip.

The kiss consumed their senses and Emma's lips parted to allow him deeper access. He tasted like the tea he ordered at Granny's. Time was irrelevant. When the kiss ended, they were both breathing heavily. Gold's hands moved to her waist while her fists clenched handfuls of his black suit.

"That was..." She panted. Breathtaking? Magical? Frightening? There was no single word she could apply to it. It shook her to the core. Her mind was dizzy and drunk with warm, lustful thoughts.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, equally out of breath and at a loss for the right words. Emma bent to take his cane, cradling it in her arms, as though it was a talisman to ward off the butterflies in her stomach and springiness in her toes.

For a minute or two, they walked on in silence. Gold's pawnshop loomed into view. This was the end of the line and, in a way, Emma was relieved. She needed to take some time alone to think over what just passed between them.

It was only a silly dare. It didn't mean anything.

It couldn't.

Could it?

"Truth or dare," she said once they reached his door. This would be the final round.

"Truth."

"Did you enjoy it?" There was no need to explain the _it _she was referring to; both of them could only think about the kiss they shared. Gold grasped the knob on the door, for support and a quick escape, she imagined.

"Very much, yes," he admitted. "It has been too long since I kissed a beautiful woman or opened myself up to the opportunity. So, _Emma_, truth or dare?"

"Truth." He chuckled softly.

"Did you enjoy it, too?" She took a step backward.

"It wasn't the worst experience I've ever had," she said, beating around the bush. He raised an eyebrow, imploring her to be upfront. "Yes. I...liked it. There, happy?"

Emma gave him back his cane. They politely bid their goodbyes and Gold disappeared inside the shop, a shadow fleeing from the light. She turned and started down the street again, with her head still spinning and her heart pounding in her chest.

Maybe, one day, they could play the game again.

...


	5. Curfew

_**Curfew**_

"Dad, if I had a curfew, what would it be?"

Gold should have anticipated trouble when that sort of question popped out of his teenage daughter's mouth.

He had been in the basement spinning at his wheel-his form of relaxation-and suddenly Ellie dashed down the stairs to bombard him with this latest urgent matter. Didn't children these days know how to slow down and appreciate the small things in life? Ellie was bursting with energy ever since her birth, making her quite the athlete at school and a handful at home.

For her, he stopped spinning and rotated on his stool to give her his undivided attention.

Whenever he looked upon his daughter, he was reminded of sunlight. Her hair was the same pale golden shade as her mother's and cascaded far down her back. It flew wildly behind her when she ran. She had inherited his dark, mysterious eyes, which could easily radiate mischief as well as love. Since she was eleven years old, she sprouted up like a weed, coming close to his height.

Then there was her name, light in itself. Ellie, short for Elena. Emma had chosen it because supposedly Elena meant ray of light. That was exactly what his daughter was in his heart, same as Emma.

Flickers of light amidst an ocean of darkness.

Gods, he couldn't believe she was a teenager already. He certainly had enough gray hairs to account for the years that passed.

"If we're speaking hypothetically...I would say a reasonable curfew is ten o'clock. I'm guessing your mother told you to ask me." The way Ellie shuffled her foot on the gray basement floor suggested he was right on that. When the going got tough, Emma usually directed their daughter to him to get a second opinion. "Before you complain about the limit being unfair, you should know Henry's curfew was the same."

Henry had grown up much too quickly in his opinion, but then the boy never truly got the chance to be a real kid. Eleven years older than fifteen-year-old Ellie, he now had a house of his own in Storybrooke, not too far down from theirs. He had taken Grace as his wife, with a little one on the way.

Even though Henry was never his son by blood, he treated the boy with as much love, respect, and protection as Bae and Ellie. A long time ago, he began to look at Henry as his own child.

Since Ellie was his third, he was a lot smarter and more careful in the ways of parenting.

"Why are you asking about a curfew? Going somwhere with your friends?"

He had met her childhood friends and approved of them, but that didn't change the fact that they were a bunch of teenage girls. Luckily, he still had eyes and ears around town. If they even took a step inside The Rabbit's Hole, Tom the bartender would have him on the phone immediately.

Ellie wove her fingers together, the knuckles cracking. Her lip was in danger of being devoured by her teeth. _That's a guilty look if I ever saw one. _

"Technically, yes," she murmured. The alarms went off in his head.

"You know I despise the word _technically._ It means you're not telling me everything. Ellie..." He warned her, dragging out her name. It was the first sign that she was going to be in trouble. _Don't make me count to three. _

"Alright, alright. Calm down," she gave in, blowing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. _Never tell a father to calm down. It only makes him worry more. _There was no telling what lengths he would go to find the truth. "I may have...been asked out on a date. Obviously I said yes."

Every cell in Gold's brain malfunctioned and the alarms no longer rang out. They exploded completely. For a long moment, with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, all he could do was stare uncomprehending at his daughter.

His fifteen-year-old daughter.

On a date.

"Emma!" Leaping from his stool, he charged to the bottom of the stairs and shouted for his wife. By the distress in his voice, the basement might as well have been on fire. The ceiling creaked as she crossed to the basement door and flung it open, a firm hand on her hip. "Did you know...our daughter...is going on a _date?" _

That word tasted bitter in his mouth. He had dreaded this day.

Emma cocked an eyebrow.

"Why do you think I sent her down to you? I figured you would want to hear it from her, not me. Otherwise, you would accompany her all the way to Granny's. The diner, _not _the inn."

_Accompany? _

"No, no, no. No!" He exclaimed and turned back to his daughter, who had inherited enough nerve to hold his glare. "This is not happening. Out of the question." He couldn't bear the thought of his daughter out with a grown boy or of finding more gray hairs in the morning.

"Dad! I already said yes! He's coming here in an hour to pick me up. We're only going to Granny's and I'll be home by ten. Nine-thirty, if you want. Promise," she pleaded, even going as far as to grip his hand. He kept his gaze trained on the ceiling or else his defenses would crumble. Emma's eyes rolled.

"Oh, just let her go. It's not the worst possible plan for a date. I'm pretty sure I've done worse. Besides, if they ditch that plan, you have people all over town that will tell you about it. She's more guarded than the President," Emma said. Ellie gripped his hand harder.

"How many _pretty_s do I need to put before please?" Gold felt her putting on those infamous puppy eyes. He struggled not to look. It would be his downfall. This was the best for her, so she could stay safe.

Safe didn't always coincide with happiness.

"You didn't flip out so much when Henry went on his first date with Grace," Emma added. It had nothing to do with the fact that Henry wasn't his. Inside, he had been just as anxious as he was now. Plus, he knew Grace-she was about as harmful as a baby kitten.

This was his _daughter_. Teenage boys couldn't always be trusted.

"Please, Daddy?" Oh, not that trick! She only reverted to calling him Daddy when there was something she desperately wanted. Being his only daughter, he often gave in to it more often than he should. Like now.

He knew why Emma had already agreed to it. They both wanted their daughter to find happiness in life, which meant they needed to give her the chance.

"There are several conditions you must abide," he said. Ellie let go of his hand in favor of hugging him tightly, instantly interpreting that as a _yes. _He hated to cut her hug short, but he needed her to understand this. "One: I get to meet him."

Ellie's smile soured, but she didn't argue. She should be lucky he wouldn't have a magic wand or a terrible curse ready for the occasion.

"Two: you go to Granny's Diner. That's it. If he decides to take you anywhere else, before or after, you are to call me or your mother before making a move." Ellie nodded eagerly, feeling the phone in her pocket. "Three: you are to be in this house no later than...ten o'clock. Understood?"

"Understood," Ellie quickly agreed and threw her arms around his middle again. This time, he hugged her back and kissed the crown of her head. He wouldn't know what to do if something ever happened to her.

His little girl.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she whispered into his white dress shirt. Then she tore up the stairs, racing to her bedroom with the speed of The Flash to get ready. Gold sighed and lumbered up the stairs to his wife, feeling every day of his age.

"You handled that well. I expected more wall punching and cane slapping. Or should I wait until you meet the lucky guy?" Somehow, she knew how to take the strain off his shoulders. She ran her hands up his chest and he took comfort in her touch.

"Oh, I wouldn't consider him lucky yet. He hasn't met me. Lucky is if he doesn't dine with Whale tonight." Even as he said it, he felt the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. If it weren't for Emma, it might have gone a lot worse.

He bent his head to kiss her, his fingers entwined in her hair. Without hesitation, Emma kissed back with twice the force, her arms looping around his neck and urging him closer. He was so lost in the way she tasted-_mm, cinnamon_-that he almost tumbled backwards down the stairs.

Emma yanked him back and they rushed through the door, colliding with the wall directly opposite. His body pressed flush against hers, fitting perfectly, and his hands rested on either side of her head. Even after all these years together, her touch was like magic to him. Addictive and powerful beyond belief.

"Look on the bright side..." Emma said breathlessly right before his lips brushed the curve of her neck. "When Ellie is on her date, we'll have the house to ourselves until ten." A pleasurable feeling wound its way below his waist. He liked the sound of that. It had been some time since they last truly made love...and took their time doing it.

He kissed her again, sealing the deal. If it weren't for the sound of his own heartbeat pulsing in rhythm with Emma's, he might have heard the footsteps heading their way.

"Ugh! _Ew! _Can't you guys wait until I'm out of the house?" He jumped apart from Emma and saw Ellie standing there, her hand cupped around her forehead to shield her eyes from that unsettling sight. "If this is your way of punishing me for going on a date, it's working!"

Oops.

...

_**A/N: I want to thank orthankg1 for this request. I hope everyone enjoyed the one-shot. I also want to thank those that reviewed recently, because I appreciate every word of support. It means a lot to me to hear that there are people out there enjoying these one-shots. (-; **_


	6. Ours

_**A/N: This is a short one this time, but it was something I had a craving to write. I hope everyone reading it enjoys it and I promise to have something longer next time around. As always, I appreciate the reviews I have received and the ones that have yet to come. **_

"_**Ours"**_

Emma couldn't catch her breath. Skin flushed and slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her chest, her muscles coiling with bursts of pleasure. Chills ran up and down her spine—the good kind that made her toes curl. This was the best she had felt in a long time. She felt..._happy. _

Raising her head from the pillow, she pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. His lips lifted lazily at the corners as he rolled off of her, pulling the blanket comfortably over their entwined bodies. Emma readjusted herself in his arms, resting her head squarely on his chest. Beneath that smooth stretch of skin, his heart pulsed powerfully in her ear.

"I love you," he whispered, his fingers threading through her tangled blonde hair. He never tired of saying it or hearing it in return. Even though she never admitted it, Emma felt the exact same way, having been deprived of real love for most of her life.

"I love you," she repeated, meaning every syllable. No more hiding behind walls. Her lips slid over the skin that shielded his heart. His hand dove under the covers and settled on her belly. A tingle of warmth spread through every cell of her body.

"Enough to have my child, I see," he teased, stroking the curve of her belly. It was something they both wanted and something he had wished for deeply. It had only been six months, but already they loved that unborn child. Their child would never question the love they felt for it, would never want for anything. Especially if Gold had his way. Given his way, their child would grow up a little prince or princess. And she would be carrying triplets.

Emma's hand joined his under the covers, gently holding his hand to her belly. The baby kicked, as if it knew that it was the subject of their adoration.

"Ours," she said and dreamed of the day when they would hold their baby in their arms.


	7. Dance With Me

_**A/N: This one I came up with not too long ago. Mostly I wondered what Rumpel's reaction would be to Emma's red dress in the third season finale. I also promised a longer one-shot, so I hope everyone enjoys reading this one. **_

_**Dance With Me**_

"May I have this dance?"

Previously, she had been waltzing with Hook, but suddenly they stopped to address this unexpected interruption. That voice was unmistakeable. Emma's brows cinched together in confusion as she looked into the amber snakelike eyes of Rumpelstiltskin. It was still a shock to see him this way: gold-dusted skin, wiry hair, clad in leather pants. Not to mention that his shrill giggle resembled the shriek of a sheep.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He was the one that cloaked them with a glamour spell in the first place, the one that stuck her in this awkward scarlet gown. They were supposed to be trying to mend the past.

"Find your own blonde princess. This one's taken," Hook bellowed. He protectively, possessively, wrapped his only real hand around her waist. She immediately wiggled free of it, giving him a scornful look. This was the guy that got jealous because his past self had the same desires for her as he did.

If he found it odd that Rumpelstiltskin was the one asking for a dance, nothing in his face gave it away. In fact, Hook acted like it was any old guy that had the audacity to ask for Emma's attention. Hook was ready to guide Emma away on the dance floor, when Rumpel's hand split them apart, his body half-wedged between them.

"Why not let the lady speak for herself? I'll bet anything she's headstrong. I admire that in a woman," Rumpel drawled. He gave Emma a long, leaisurely once-over, making her feel twice as vulnerable in that dress. Every time this man looked at her, she swore he had the power to peer into her heart.

Rumpel held out his hand, daring her to take it.

How bad could one dance be? Besides, she was curious if he was a decent dancer, cconsidering the fact he was usually burdened by a limp. He hadn't limped once in this world. Not even a misstep. _Must be the magic. _

Emma took his hand, earning her a gleeful grin and Hook's horror. It was one thing to watch his past self sweep her off her feet, but now she was being led away by a man he clearly did not recognize. A man that still loathed him for stealing his wife. _Oh, how the tables have turned, _she thought.

Rumpel escorted her to the very center of the floor. Dozens of entwined bodies swirled around them. Her heart raced in her throat when his hand went to the small of her back, his other hand clasping hers tightly. _No escape, _his wide, predator smile warned her.

Then they began to move together, surprisingly smooth in step. All the while, he never took his eyes off of her. The crowd dissolved into background noise; no one even gave Rumpel a second glance.

"Let me guess: you're disguised by a glamour spell, too?" It would explain why none of these guests batted an eye even though the Dark One danced among them. She wondered if Hook was also deceived by the spell, since he did not seem to recognize Rumpel.

This was only meant for her.

Rumpel briefly let go of her waist to press a hand to his chest, his mouth falling open in an exaggerated look of astonishment.

"And hide these lov-e-ly looks?" He waved his hand over his reptilian features. Even his tongue flicked out like a snake's to lick his upper lip. "No, dearie, I assure you they know exactly who I am."

As they continued to dance, they spun past a group of young maidens and Rumpel winked at them. Pointing to one redhead in green, he mouthed _you're next. _Emma glanced over her shoulder to gauge the girl's reaction. The girl blushed and giggled with the others about how handsome he was.

_Lovely looks, my ass, _she thought, rolling her eyes. How many of these women had he already danced with for his own amusement? They would be sent to an early grave if they knew they had basked in the Dark One's arms.

"Then you're a good-looking prince with two left feet," she said coolly and deliberately stepped on his foot, bringing his attention back to her. Rumpel scowled down at his boot, but she doubted her abuse could scuff it any more than it already was. Her old battered boots were in better shape.

"Nonsense. I'll have you know that I am a fabulous dancer. Self-taught," he boasted. She snickered, imagining him spinning in front of a mirror, practicing his own dance moves. It made her question whether Gold could dance. The next thing she knew, Rumpel's mouth delved into her hair and his breath tickled her ear. "Give me a chance and I'll prove it to you."

She wasn't exactly running yet.

"You're more graceful than I imagined you would be, after so clumsily unraveling the past like a ball of yarn," he said, tilting his head to the side.

"Gee, thanks," she moaned sarcastically. "And you're gentler than I thought you could be." The corners of his lips drooped.

"It was a compliment, not an insult. Here's another one, free of charge: you are a dream come true in that dress."

His eyes scrolled over her body again, memorizing every last curve. _Admiring your work? _It had been a long time since he last looked at her that way. Hungrily, admiringly, as if she were the only person in the world worth his attention.

If the so-called future taught her anything, she knew that wasn't true.

"What about Belle?" Emma never had a problem with Belle, nor experienced any disliking for her before, but now her name left a sour taste on the roof of Emma's mouth. Rumpel dragged his gaze back to her face and he inhaled deeply through his nose, his back stiffening.

"What about her?" The playfulness had all but evaporated from his voice. Emma knew he was trying to keep her from learning the truth about his feelings for Belle. _Too late for that. _

"Oh, please. Don't deny it. When it comes to her, you're as see-through as a piece of glass. I see the way you look at her, both in the past and my present. You like her." Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to say _love. _"So why are you here with me?"

For a brief instant, Rumpel's mask cracked and she glimpsed the real man underneath. The lonely man that was desperate for some shred of comfort. The man that still had some idea of what his heart was for, even if he claimed it no longer worked right. It had to work, to get broken so many times.

Rumpel sighed.

"Fate works in mysterious ways. Let's just say...I wanted the chance to dance with you before we part ways for who-knows-how-many years." That was the most honest he had been with her yet. Maybe that was why she said what she said next. Returning the favor.

"Twenty-eight years," she stated. Rumpel hung on her every word, craving that knowledge like Adam to the forbidden fruit. The past was already broken, anyway. "Your curse lasts twenty-eight years. On my twenty-eighth birthday, I arrive to break it. That's when I first meet you."

Their dancing slowed. Rumpel looked stunned and he didn't say anything for a long time. She had just confirmed that he was able to create his curse and cast it.

"Twenty-eight years," he repeated, barely an awed whisper. Then he snapped back to reality, his hold on her waist tightening until she was urged closer into his arms. "Then we best make this dance count."

After that, they danced together as though they had danced this way for years. _When...if...I get back to Storybrooke, I need to remember to ask Gold for a dance. _


	8. Asleep

_**A/N: **__**I want to give special thanks to orthankg1 and 1994omi for their kind reviews. I've wanted to write this one-shot for a while, so finally I got around to it. Hope everyone enjoys it. **_

_**Asleep**_

__Rumpelstiltskin had made many mistakes in his lifetime, but this one was possibly up there with the worst.

Habitually silent on his feet, he entered that lonely hospital room, which was shrouded in the shadows of the night. Immediately he spotted the lifeless body that lay beneath the crisp white sheets. It was late at night, which meant only nurses occasionally came and went. Regina must have had to drag Henry away from the bed in order to make him leave.

_I should have stopped Regina from using the sleeping curse,_ he thought regretfully, his legs carrying him to Emma's bedside. Of course, the regret had little meaning when he knew it was because of his own slefish desires that he had done nothing to thwart Regina.

That poisoned apple turnover was always meant for Emma, but he was certain Henry would pay the price for Regina's use of magic. It wasn't like he wanted anything to happen to the boy, but that was how magic worked. Someone had to pay the price. In that case, Emma would have to believe in the curse, he would then guide her toward the bottled true love, and he would be able to find Bae. If all went well, Henry might have even been able to escape the sleeping curse unharmed.

This was his price for standing aside-his savior was trapped indefinitely in a sleeping curse, mimicking death.

It was impossible for him to retrieve the true love potion on his own, considering he would have to fend off Maleficent in dragon form, and he had no idea who Emma's true love was. He wasn't even confident true love worked in this world. It certainly never worked for Snow and Charming.

This was not how the story was supposed to end. Yet here she was, deathly pale and cold to the touch. He brushed a thumb across her cheek and shivered. How was he supposed to get his hands on true love now? How was he supposed to bring Emma back to life?

None of it mattered. Without the savior, the curse would be stronger than ever.

_I'm so sorry, _he thought, bowing his head. Emma may as well be dead, for there was no hope in saving her. That painful truth didn't make it any easier to accept her fate. He never imagined her fire would ever be snuffed out.

_Please come back to us. This town needs you. I...I need you. _

It was a fleeting urge, but so incredibly tempting that Rumpel did not have the strength to resist it. Most likely it was foolish and futile, but he would try anything if it meant waking the savior from her slumber.

So he cupped her cheek and bent down until his lips pressed against hers. Not too hard, but not too soft, either. Desperate. He could not forgive himself if he gave in and ran away now.

After a minute with no response, he pulled back and examined her milky face, begging her eyelids to flutter. _Come on, sweetheart, _he silently pleaded. _You're so strong, so special._ _I know you can do it. _

Nothing changed. Not even a twitch. His shoulders sagged with disappointment, though he should have expected it. There was nothing to be done-the Queen had finally won.

With an aching heart, he straightened up and turned away from Emma's shell, limping slowly to the door. He had failed...again. Centuries of hard work down the drain. This curse was for nothing but Regina's sick pleasure. Worst of all, he would never see his boy again.

He had torn Emma out of her parents' arms for no reason.

"You taste like tea," a faint voice stopped him at the threshold. Had he imagined it? His heart lurched into his throat, where it proceeded to pound against that soft layer of skin. Ever so carefully, he turned around to meet a pair of fiery green eyes. He nearly collapsed in relief.

Emma was awake, alive.

"You taste like apple," he replied with one of his trademark smirks, hoping to hide his vulnerability. He wouldn't blame Emma for never wanting to eat anything that contained apple again. He had lost the taste for them years ago. The only time he ever took a bite of one was to annoy Regina.

Once more, he stood at her bedside, earning a hesitant smile from his savior. He had been the one to save her, but what did that mean? That they were...no, that was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

"Do you believe now?" He had to know. A flicker of doubt flashed through those beautiful green eyes. Emma tried to shrug and winced when she realized how drained of energy she was.

Surely she could not explain this away. Surely, by now, she believed.

"For all I know, Regina slipped some kind of poison in that turnover," she said, sticking to her guns. He frowned, unable to contain his misery. Why must she be so stubborn? Of course, that was one of the things he admired most about her.

"Emma..." He moaned. Then he recognized it. That fierce, confident look. That glimmer of knowledge. _She believes, _he understood with riveting clarity. She could no longer turn a blind eye to the truth, no matter how much she wanted it. _Finally. _

"You obviously believe it," she pointed out, arching one eyebrow. That was her curious look and he expected there were dozens of questions bouncing on her tongue. He felt it when her gaze scrolled up and down his lean body. "So, who are you supposed to be?"

He considered challenging her to guess, but his patience had grown thin. No more hiding behind a mask. He longed for her to know who he truly was.

"Since you asked..." Stepping back from the bed, he gave a deep, dramatic bow. It wasn't easy with a bad leg, but he endured the pain for Emma. "Rumpelstiltskin, at your service." Taking her hand, he dared to bring it to his lips.

"Rumpelstiltskin. It suits you," she said with a small chuckle. Oh, he loved it when she said his name. It had been well worth the wait.

...


	9. Say Yes

_**A/N: With the constant reminder in the fandom that Rumpel is once again a married man, I decided to write this one-shot to suit Emma/Rumpel. Nothing but a modest proposal. (-; As always, I hope everyone enjoys it and I appreciate all the kind words I have received. It definitely helps me to keep writing. **_

_**Say Yes**_

Rumpelstiltskin could safely say that he had never cleaned the Dark Castle so fast in all his years of living there. The only reason he put in the effort now, cleaning it top-to-bottom, was because Emma had agreed to have dinner with him that evening. She had never set foot in the Dark Castle before-it was crucial that he made a good impression on her.

From the minute the golden rays of the sun filtered through the dusty windows, which were definitely _not _nailed down, he went from room to room leaving no corner untouched. Snapping his fingers like Mary Poppins, strewn objects zoomed to their proper places. The layers of dust disappeared. The bathroom was spotless and featured indoor plumbing. He even placed several vases of flowers around the castle as a final touch.

What woman didn't appreciate fresh flowers?

By the afternoon, he was exhausted from all his running around and he collapsed into his favorite armchair at one end of his long dining table. The castle looked good, but there was still the dinner to prepare. Wine would most certainly be needed. Two or three bottles should do. Oh, and candlelight.

Everything had to be perfect for Emma. She did not realize it yet, but this was more than a friendly dinner for two.

From inside his vest, he pulled out a small object. It was a tiny black box. Lifting the lid, he examined the ring for the umpteenth time. It was a simple golden band set with a white diamond that sparkled in the sunlight.

He and Emma had been exploring the boundaries of their relationship for some time now. A few tender kisses that grew more demanding each time, a few gentle touches in the softest spots, a few dates. Now he wanted to transcend those boundaries, make the next move.

He was more afraid of losing Emma than what was required to be with her forever.

For better or worse, tonight, everything would change.

...

He was ready and dressed by the time evening rolled around. Of course, he had changed multiple times, never fully satisfied with what he saw in the mirror.

_Would Emma like this? What would she think? _He always ended up asking himself those questions every time he modeled an outfit in front of the mirror. Should he wear cologne? Should he leave his shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing her with a strip of skin? Were his leather pants too tight and therefore revealing?

Finally, he settled on a dark, comfortable pair of leather pants and a crisp white shirt. A spritz of cologne, shined boots that took twenty minutes to lace up, and one button undone on the shirt.

Everything would be fine. The dinner was ready on the table, with a bottle of rich red wine and candles. All that was required now was the guest of honor. _Stop panicking, _he scolded himself as he fumbled with his clothing one last time before the mirror.

From the window of his tower, he watched the sunset. The sky was ablaze with streaks of red, orange, and purple. He had a good view of the road leading up to his castle and he was anxious for Emma to arrive. Last he heard, Charming was dutifully escorting his daughter to the Dark Castle.

Rumpel wondered if the prince would be just as eager to walk his daughter down the aisle. That was assuming she said "yes." Even after more than a year of being together, Emma continued to surprise him at every turn. It was one of the reasons he loved her so dearly-he never knew what to expect.

The sun sunk into the earth and yet there was no sign of her. Nothing moved on the road. The skies darkened to a powdery midnight blue. He began to pace restlessly in his library, arms folded behind his back, brow furrowed in deep thought.

Where was she? When she agreed to the dinner, she told him she would arrive at his castle sometime in the evening, but what did that mean exactly? What time? Would she...even come at all?

No, he couldn't afford to think like that. He couldn't slip into his old habit of expecting failure. Emma said she would come and Emma never went back on her word. Honor was something her whole family upheld as sacred.

She would be here. He must be patient.

Then his doubts turned into downright worry. It was getting dark out there and Charming was escorting Emma all the way from the Charmings' castle on the water. What if something happened? Ogres, wolves, trolls, and thieves roamed the land, not to mention the occasional upset magical being. What if they were stuck out there, alone, wounded, or lost?

What if...

As he whirled around to pace the floor again, his steps quickening with his jumbled nerves, something poked the middle of his back. Rumpel yelped loudly and nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart hammering in his chest. He collapsed weakly against the window, his hand over his heart.

"Sorry," Emma apologized, holding up her hands in surrender. She couldn't be that sorry since she was grinning and choking back a giggle. Not many people had what it took to sneak up on him. He almost regretted teaching her how to stay silent on her feet, as he often did. "Didn't mean to scare you. Not really. Charming just dropped me off. Guess you didn't hear me come through the front door."

Rumpel regained his breath, his heart gradually returning to its normal rhythm. He held up a hand to tell Emma it was okay, but she might have misinterpreted it as a warning to stay back since she kept her distance. Through the window, Rumpel glimpsed a figure riding off through the darkness. Must be Charming.

"You're a fast learner," he praised Emma when he remembered how to speak.

Crossing the library, he took her into his arms and welcomed her properly by kissing her gently on the mouth. Immediately she grabbed handfuls of his white shirt and kissed him back hard. He had to pull back before they went too far and lost track of the time.

"Shall I give you the grand tour of my castle?"

Emma tilted her head back to the stairs. It was easy to see that this was his library-no use insulting her intelligence.

"Lead the way," she said breathlessly, still recovering from their kiss.

Rumpel slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her down the rickety stairs. He couldn't help but admire the supple texture of her red leather jacket. Emma looked good in leather, but he would bet every strand of gold he spun that she looked stunning in a little red dress.

"Let me guess: we're starting with the master bedroom?" Emma nudged his ribs with her elbow. Rumpel's neck grew hot. She knew the exact buttons to push to make him flustered and she loved it.

"_Em-ma, _please, I'm a gentleman. That would be wildly inappropriate," he said, enjoying the way her name rolled from his lips. It didn't matter that his bedroom was on the other side of the castle from the library. He had a feeling that, if he took Emma there first, they would never have the power to leave it. "Right this way, my lady."

_I could get used to saying that. _

...

He showed her the guest bedrooms, done up with the finest silk and softest pillows this land had to offer. He led her to the bathroom, which contained a glass shower and a separate tub big enough to accommodate twenty people. They passed the trophy room that doubled as the dining hall, though he did not open the door yet to let her see, for fear of spoiling her with the sight of their dinner.

After all, tonight was his turn to surprise her.

Upstairs, downstairs, every room in the castle was free for Emma to explore to her heart's content.

Last but not least, he brought her to his bedroom. All the way down the hall of the East Wing, his belly growled for dinner and curled in knots with nervousness. His palms grew clammy, his fingers wiggling at his side. The master bedroom was one of his most personal spaces in the castle. Even Belle had seen it only once.

"Are you alright?" Emma asked, peering up at his face with concern. His arm was looped through hers and he realized he was holding on a little too tightly to her hand. His lips had formed a thin white line. He tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but it faded too fast.

"It's fine," he insisted, picking up the pace. They were right outside his bedroom now. He stared at the golden knob, hesitating in opening the door. "I just never..."

"Had a girl in your room before?" She teased.

He fidgeted, looking down at the floor. He almost retorted that he had plenty of women in his bedroom before, but _a_: that was a lie, and _b_: he doubted it was the best thing to say to the woman he intended to propose to by the end of the night. Emma snickered in amusement and that small sound lifted his spirits.

"I was going to say...I only care to showcase my bedroom to those I consider worthwhile. To people I wish to let in," he said, guiding her closer by the hips. He felt her breath tickle his mouth. Emma's eyebrows arched.

"You think I'm worthwhile?" She sounded like she was waiting for him to yell out _April Fool's. _Emma proved to have the same issue as him, forever hiding behind her walls, keeping her heart barricaded so she wouldn't get hurt. It made for a very lonely existence.

"Absolutely," he whispered.

Reaching behind him, he turned the knob and flung open the bedroom door, leading her over the threshold. Perhaps, one of these nights, he would carry her over it.

It was dim, the curtains drawn over the windows. Dozens of candles scattered the room, the wax dripping over every surface. For centuries, he lit the candles to honor Bae's memory instead of bringing light into the room. The king-sized bed was pushed against one wall, the covers turned down. A full-length mirror stood in one corner, though it had been covered for years.

You never knew who could be watching.

Slipping from his grasp, Emma went ahead and explored every inch of the bedroom. She picked up a couple of colorful vials, but he carefully removed them from her hands before she learned the hard way what spells were bottled inside. She drifted to the bed and ran her hand over the cold sheets. To his surprise, she even dared to flounce down on the mattress, ankles crossed, testing out the level of comfort. When she went to the window, she spread the curtains wide and stared out into the night. The pale moonlight flooded the floor and illuminated her fiery green eyes.

"Your castle is beautiful," she told him honestly. Turning away from the window, she gave him a mournful once-over. He let her look. "Don't you get lonely living on this mountain by yourself?"

_More than you will ever know, _he thought sadly. His heart longed for her, commanding his feet to go to her. Putting his hand in his pocket, he fumbled around for the ring.

"I do," he admitted without hesitation. He stopped at her side and took her hand. He pulled the other hand out of his pocket, holding up the delicate ring. Then he struck her speechless when he knelt down before her. Not an easy thing to accomplish in skin-tight leather pants, but he endured it. "That is why, after a great deal of consideration, I have decided...I would like you to be the one to share it with me. You are filled with light, strength, honor, and true love. You are everything that I am not, everything that I need. So, Emma Swan, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Emma ran a hand through her golden mane of curls, unable to form a single coherent word. Emotions warred over her fair face: surprise, happiness, love...and doubt. _Please, sweetheart, let down your walls. It's no fun drinking alone. Take it from someone who has done it for centuries. _

Rumpel lowered the ring.

"Forgive me if this is sudden. I wanted to surprise you tonight. I was planning on doing this over dinner, but..."

"You couldn't wait?"

Patience was not usually one of his strong suits, even if he was determined to reach his goals. When he met Emma's eyes again, he noticed that she looked far less doubtful. Some of the tension had lifted from her shoulders. His fingers ached to rub out the rest.

"I've been waiting much too long already. I don't want to be alone or afraid anymore. You?" He held up the ring again, asking if she would accept it. Emma mulled it over silently, weighing the pros and cons. It was a relief when her smile grew.

"Okay," she said confidently. The ring almost fell out of his hand. He wondered if he heard that correctly. When she saw how stunned he was, she took the ring and pulled him to his feet. "Yes, I will marry you. Though I don't really know if I'm the jewelry type."

He chuckled and watched as she slipped the ring on her finger. It looked perfect.

"That's what your mother said the day she met Charming. I like to think that when she tried on that ring, she came to realize that she wanted it to be true more than anything. That was where she belonged."

Emma paused in studying the ring from all angles. His heart continued to skip a beat. _She said yes. She'll be the lady of the Dark Castle. _He hadn't been so happy in so long. Hell, he was almost giddy without a single drop of wine.

"Our dinner will be getting cold," he said, suddenly remembering that it was waiting for them. Of course, he could always heat it up with magic, but his brain wasn't functioning correctly since Emma accepted his proposal. He bowed in front of her, gesturing to the open bedroom door. Emma twitched her lips.

"Or...we could skip straight to dessert," she purred. He straightened up sharply. Was she implying what he thought she was implying? Her enchanting green eyes said it all, luring him in with their excitement.

Entwining her arms around his neck, she pressed a bold kiss to his mouth. After a moment, he returned her kiss and knew there would be no going back. She dragged him away from the door, dragged him to the bed, where they were doomed to lose track of time completely.

...


	10. Happy Birthday

_**A/N: Hello, dearies! This is a one-shot I've had the urge to write for a while. Just fluff, fluff, fluff. I hope everyone enjoys reading it. **_

_**Happy Birthday**_

__"Tell me something I don't know," Emma sighed when Henry brought up the curse's existence for the hundredth time. She should have expected the kid to take it seriously. As they strolled down the main street of Storybrooke, enjoying the morning breeze, Henry bombarded her with strange details she had not considered before.

"Did you know the Evil Queen is technically my step-great-grandmother and your step-grandmother?"

Emma shuddered. It was disturbing to think that Regina could be her grandmother, especially since she didn't seem to be much older than her. Though, she did start to snicker when she tried to picture Regina's face if she ever called her "grandma."

"Did you know Ashley's baby might have been your childhood friend if not for the curse?"

That was another thing that perplexed her about Henry's theory of curses and fairy tales. How could a woman be pregnant for twenty-eight years, almost three decades, and never notice? She and baby Alexandra would never be childhood friends, being thirty years apart in age.

"Did you know it's Mr. Gold's birthday today?"

That caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks and stared down at Henry.

"Really?"

Of course she knew the guy had to have a birthday, but he seemed so...ageless. Like a creature that had always roamed the earth without showing signs of wear or mortality. It never occurred to her to ask how old he was.

"Who is he spending it with?"

Last she heard, Gold wasn't very popular among the townsfolk. It was very unlikely that anyone would throw him a surprise party to celebrate the day he was born into the world. He had no family from the looks of it-no relatives, children, or even a wife to go home to at the end of the day. She had never witnessed him being intimate with anyone.

"No one," Henry said, confirming her suspicions. Did the guy even have a friend in this town? She started to feel a little sorry for him. She knew how terrible it felt to spend a birthday alone. "He never reminds anyone that it's his birthday and no one asks. The only reason I knew was because I was curious and Ruby knows everything."

"That's kind of lonely and miserable, don't you think? Spending a birthday alone," she murmured as they began walking again. They passed the diner and a thought struck Emma out of nowhere. "You know what, kid? I'll be right back."

She charged into the diner before Henry could ask.

...

It came as a surprise to him when the bell above the shop's door rang and he looked up to watch Emma Swan stroll in. It wasn't her presence that was the surprising part, but the item she delicately carried in her hands.

A frothy, blue-frosted cupcake with rainbow sprinkles and a star-shaped candle on top. She placed it on the counter in front of him, much to his amusement. Like everyone else in town, he had forgotten it was his birthday. It had been so long since anyone bothered to celebrate it.

Without a word, Emma picked up a golden lighter on the counter and lit the candle on the cupcake. Was she going to sing _Happy Birthday _to him, too? Perhaps this would be fun.

"Well now," he said when the silence stretched on between them. She eyed him expectantly, hoping he would accept the cupcake without too much trouble. To entice her, he ran his finger through the swirled blue frosting and lapped it up. "Since when does Girl Scouts deliver door-to-door cupcakes?"

Just as he anticipated, the comment got Emma all riled up. She was beautiful when she was feisty. Those fiery green eyes rolled to the ceiling.

"Funny." Gold sucked the rest of the sugary frosting off his finger. He knew she was watching all the while. _Do you enjoy that, princess? _

"Glad I amuse you," he replied, smirking.

"I'm bringing this to you so that you don't have to be alone on your birthday," she said, waving her hand over the cupcake. The flame of the candle flickered.

Gold was overwhelmed with astonishment again. He was aware she had spent her birthday alone until Henry showed up. Clearly, she didn't want him to suffer the same loneliness.

"I'll make you a deal. I will accept this cupcake only if you stay and enjoy it with me," he proposed. What else did she have to do? Avoid Regina's wrath? Babysit a drunken Leroy in the station? Was that really more preferable to spending an hour with him in his shop?

An hour was necessary because he could think of multiple ways to make this cupcake last.

Emma fidgeted, shoving her hands in the pockets of her red leather jacket. If she agreed to this deal, she would have to let her walls come down. _It's just a cupcake, Em-ma, _he thought, pleading with her to say yes.

The corner of her mouth lifted a little.

"You know, so many people in this town warned me against you, including Henry," she told him. He bowed his head and prepared for the inevitable rejection. "But I learned long ago that I can never be too sure about something until I experience it for myself."

Before he could process her meaning, she dipped a finger into the blue frosting and stuck that finger in her mouth. It was oddly alluring, observing Emma suck the frosting off her finger with her eyes closed in bliss. He wanted her to do it again. He only made it worse for himself when he imagined bringing a frosting-coated finger to her mouth and letting her lick it away.

"Aren't you going to make a wish?"

He shook the fantasy away. The candle flickered rapidly, the wax dripping close to the frosting. The flame warmed his face as he bent down to it. It only took him one moment to decide what he wanted this year. In one huff, he blew out the candle.

"So? What did you wish for?" Emma asked, leaning over the counter to take another swipe at the frosting. Gold smiled cryptically as he did the same.

"If I tell you, it won't come true." Emma pouted in light of the way he teased her, holding the knowledge of his wish just out of reach. He loved the look of her blue-tinted lips when she did that. "I suppose this means I owe you a favor."

At last, he was rewarded with a genuine smile.

"I suppose you do."

...


	11. That Awkward Moment

_**A/N: This one-shot was a request from Fairy the Freak. The request was for Emma and Rumpel to be involved in a relationship when they go to find Bae in Manhattan and for Bae to react to said relationship. If anyone else has any requests for one-shots they would like to see, feel free to let me know. **_

_**That Awkward Moment**_

_No..._

Emma lay sprawled on her side on some cold, gray street in Manhattan. The scarf around her neck had come undone in her fall, the vibrant red fabric trailing through the dirt. Her black tights were ripped over the knees, her skin scraped raw. The same went for her palms, which she had used to break her fall.

None of that mattered. Even the fact that she was severely winded did not bother her as much as the sight directly before her.

They were here to find Rumpelstiltskin's lost son, Baelfire. As per her favor, she had pursued him and ended up knocking him to the ground. When the hood fell back, however, she found herself staring into a familiar face.

_No...it can't be..._

_ Neal. _

The only other man in this world she ever truly loved. The man that broke her heart and forced her not to trust anyone else for years on end. Her heart convulsed as the memories resurfaced, one by one. Meeting him in that stolen yellow Bug, sharing a few drinks with him, staying with him while he taught her how to survive on the streets...his betrayal.

Were he and Baelfire one and the same?

A sickening realization hit her all at once, as if someone punched her deeply in the stomach. She tasted bile in the back of her throat. _Oh, God...he's Henry's father..._

And, unbeknownst to her, she had been sleeping with _his _father for months now. Her head swam as those memories of Neal clashed with ones of the time she'd spent happily in Rumpel's arms. Kissing, touching, wanting. She should have suspected it, somehow. She should have known something wasn't right about it, some way...

But it never felt wrong to be with him. On the contrary, it had felt very. very good.

"N-Neal?" She dared to choke out his name. It tasted bitter on her tongue, coppery, like she had sucked on an old penny. Her stomach continued to flip and twist as she imagined the things they had done. Her and Neal...her and Rumpel...

Her forehead met the ground, her eyes clenching shut. It didn't chase away the images.

"Emma,"Neal gasped. He sounded both concerned and horrified. Scooting to her side, he touched her lightly on the shoulder. That simple physical contact electrified Emma and she wrenched away, leaping to her feet. Neal did the same, hands raised in surrender. "It's been a long time."

Eleven years, to be exact.

She had been so young then and desperate for someone to care for her. Having been alone her whole life, she would have taken affection in any way she could get it. How was she to know this man would turn out to be the son of Rumpelstiltskin? The son of the man she now craved more than breath?

"Are you his son?" Her voice came out harsh and raspy, her throat burning with anger. Maybe there was a chance he wasn't Baelfire. Maybe he knew where Baelfire was and this was all a huge misunderstanding on her part.

Neal's face became pinched with confusion.

"What do you mean?" His voice broke. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. Any minute, he could bolt. She knew how to recognize someone who wanted to run. After all, she had been doing it her entire life.

"Are you Rumpelstiltskin's son? Bae?"

This time, he didn't play dumb. The minute his father's name fell from her mouth, his eyes boggled. His face paled by several degrees until he looked like he might faint. That was the look of sheer panic.

Neal cursed under his breath and kicked a pebble on the sidewalk. That was all she needed to hear. This was Baelfire.

"My father sent you?" The outburst only spurred her anger more.

"Hey! You don't have the right to be angry! I owed him a favor, to help him find his son. So I came all the way to Manhattan to track him down, only to learn that the man I used to love also happens to be..."

She couldn't finish that sentence. The poisonous words got tangled up in her throat. Eleven years of hurt and she still decided to spare him the pain of truth. Neal, or Bae, or whoever he was, clung to every syllable she spat.

"Also happens to be what? His son? My apologies for not telling you. Would you really have believed me if I confessed to being the son of Rumpelstiltskin?"

Emma hated that she hadn't known, but she knew she would have thought him crazy or on drugs if he suggested such a thing all those years ago. It took Henry almost a year to convince her that magic and fairy tales were real. Neal nodded his head, point proven.

"Looks like you and I have a lot of catching up to do. There's a cozy bar down the street, much more private. You can keep yelling at me on the way."

All too casually, Neal turned and started strolling down the street. He didn't look back to see if she was following. Emma stomped her boot on the ground and let out an almost inhuman growl.

_Why me? _

...

"Are you nervous?" Henry suddenly inquired, yanking Rumpelstiltskin out of his troubling thoughts.

Throughout this entire journey, he only thought of Bae and how close he might be to seeing him again. Emma would bring him back; of course she would. It was part of the favor she owed him, though he knew she would have done it without the favor. If he'd only asked nicely.

Blinking as if emerging from a heavy dream, he gave Henry a dazed look.

"No, don't be silly. I'm Rumpelstiltskin. I don't get nervous over anything."

He folded his hands over his cane and tried to appear calm. Inside, he was shaking like a frightened child. Henry had a knack for separating truth from lie, having lived with the Queen of Lies for most of his young life, and so he kept on watching Rumpel with uncertainty. Those innocent, intelligent eyes could crack the coldest of hearts.

"You get nervous in front of Emma every day," Henry pointed out.

That was true. Rumpel melted into a puddle whenever he was around Emma. He would smile easier, stare sheepishly at his feet as he searched for the right things to say, and he grew red in the face on more than one occasion when she stole a kiss or whispered something inviting in his ear. That woman could have him on his knees with a single word if she so desired it.

"Alright, maybe I am a little nervous," he admitted. The rough material of the cloak around his neck scratched his jaw. He never forgot it was there and not just because it was the key to keeping his memories. "I abandoned him centuries ago. I left him fatherless in an unfamiliar world because I chose power instead. He...he'll never forgive me."

Truthfully, he wouldn't blame Bae for being resentful or refusing to give him a moment of his time. How often had he thought of his own father with burning hatred for being the first disappointment in a long line of misery? If he were to walk away right now, it might be easier.

Something warm clasped his hand, which still gripped the head of his cane mercilessly. He glanced down to see Henry's small hand there.

"Don't be afraid. Everything will work out somehow," Henry said hopefully. "And if you run away, you'll never know what could have happened with your son."

Henry was right. This wasn't the time to run away, even if he was terrified of the outcome. The boy was always so precocious, brave, and pure of heart. A born fighter, just like his real mother.

Rumpel wouldn't mind calling Henry his son. He had never told the boy before, but he was proud of him. Perhaps, after he righted things with Bae, he would take the next step in his relationship with Emma. They had already made love multiple times, in multiple ways, even more so since the curse broke and she came to terms with who he truly was.

He wanted something that would last. He wanted _family. _

When he closed his eyes, he could remember the nights he spent in her arms. When his tongue traced over his lips, he tasted her kiss. It was surprisingly easy to picture himself waking to her every morning and to imagine spending the rest of his days with her by his side. He even teased himself with a future in which her belly would be big with his child.

She felt like...home.

The sound of the door opening shattered his comforting reverie. The sun blinded him for an instant when he opened his eyes. Then she was there, in the flesh, her hair a pale halo framing her hardened features. She didn't look happy. In fact, she seemed distracted, never meeting his eyes directly.

"Emma," he sighed with relief. His limp was more pronounced than usual when he stood and approached her. No one followed her inside. Was Bae waiting outside? Or...was he not there at all?

"I couldn't catch him," Emma said tiredly. She hung her head and her blonde hair hid a good portion of her face. He ached to sweep it away. "I chased him around the block, but I slipped on the pavement. He kept running."

Her black nylon tights had holes over the knees. When he took her hands, she hissed. Her palms were raw and scraped. If he had magic, he would spare her the pain and heal her. The cuts he earned on his knuckles from punching a metal dispenser was proof that he was powerless.

Bae was gone. There was no telling where he would be now. Their one strong chance of finding him had flown straight out the window.

"Shall we...search his room? He might have left behind a clue to his whereabouts," Rumpel suggested, desperate for some shred of comfort. It was the only hope they had of finding Bae now. One thing was clear: Bae was reluctant to see him. Emma nodded without lifting her head. Rumpel tucked some of her hair behind her ear and raised her chin with two fingers. "Thank you for trying."

Rumpel's fingers cupped her chin and he bent his head to kiss her. Emma's hands flew to his chest as their lips met. It felt like she was holding back from returning his kiss. That was unsual for her, since she was the one that often dominated in their acts of intimacy.

It must have been his imagination.

...

It was laughably simple to pick the lock on Bae's door. Less than ten seconds and he had it open. Emma scoffed at his personal lock-picking tools, but he liked to believe she was secretly impressed.

The apartment was a one-bedroom setup, rather plain and shabby. The only furnishings he could see were a miserable twin-sized bed, a worn couch, a crooked coffee table, and a dresser. Posters and signs covered the walls, but there were no knickknacks or personal photos. The closet was nearly empty, the dresser storing only a small selection of clothing. The bathroom had the most basic of necessities and the pantry's shelves were hardly crammed with food.

This wasn't the sort of place that belonged to someone who planned to stay for an extended period of time. It wasn't a real home and for that sad truth, Rumpel's heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

There was very little to go on in that pitifully small space. Rumpel's eyes scoured over the signs plastered on the wall, but they made no sense to him. None displayed a specific location where Bae might be headed. His only hope was Emma, who had some skill in finding people, even ones who did not wish to be found.

It was then that he realized Emma wasn't searching the room anymore.

She was still and silent, standing by the window with a dreamcatcher in her hands. Her face was drawn with exhaustion and thoughtfulness. The only thing she focused on was that dreamcatcher and he had no idea why.

"Did you find something, love?"

He walked up to her from behind, his hand falling naturally on her hip. His finger pointed questioningly to the dreamcatcher. Emma sucked in a harsh breath, as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. When she spun around, the dreamcatcher separated their bodies.

"It's nothing," she insisted. It was hard to miss the way she blushed even as she said it or the way her fingers clung to the dreamcatcher so fiercely like it was her saving grace.

"Then why are you still holding it?" Something didn't add up. An unmistakable mask of guilt passed over Emma's face. The dreamcatcher quivered in her hands.

All of a sudden, he knew what his instincts were trying to tell him. The way she wouldn't meet his eyes, the way she held that dreamcatcher, the way she'd been holding back from him since she returned...

"You lied to me. There's something you're not telling me," he said, his voice rising.

"No-" Emma replied through clenched teeth.

"Stop lying," he growled. This was his _son. _She was supposed to help him find Bae, not keep secrets. Despite that, he reminded himself that this was _Emma _and he forced himself to calm down. "Sweetheart, please...if you know where he is, tell me."

He reached out to stroke her cheek. She closed her eyes and turned her head away so that his fingertips barely grazed her skin. Why was she refusing his touch so strongly when they both knew she longed for it each day?

"Henry...go into the bathroom for a minute. Rumpel and I need to talk privately," she requested, in as calm a tone as she could muster for the moment.

Henry glanced between Emma and Rumpel, sensing something wrong as children often do. Then his hesitation passed and he obeyed his mother, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door. Rumpel never took his eyes away from Emma. Obviously, there was something she wished to discuss, something she didn't want Henry to hear.

"You didn't lose Bae, did you?" He accused her. Even if she was at fault, Emma held her chin high. That cockiness and strength were only two of the reasons he loved her. She never showed fear, even when staring into the mouth of the dragon.

"No," she admitted. His fingers curled into his palm. That meant she had let Bae go on purpose. His son, gone. "We...talked. There's something you need to know. Bae...he's..."

Emma closed her eyes again, unable to go on. Rumpel's patience thinned. He tossed his cane aside and ran his hands down Emma's arms. The dreamcatcher was crushed against his chest. He drew her close until she had no choice but to look up at him.

"Tell me," he implored her and he could see her defenses were weakening. That was what his touch did to her; unraveled her and shook her walls. Whatever she didn't want to say was now dreadfully close to the surface...

"Stop," a new voice cried out. The door to the apartment had bust open, but neither one had paid it any attention. Over his shoulder, Rumpel saw a man standing in the doorway-tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of dark hair. Physically closer to Emma's age than Rumpel's. Two eyes glittering with malice.

_Bae...? _

Who else could it be?

"Leave her alone," this thirty-something-year-old man demanded. At once, Rumpel witnessed the scene from Bae's eyes. How many lives had he destroyed in the past? With Emma looking so conflicted and his hands still gripping her arms, he could easily be mistaken for hurting her.

Rumpel reluctantly pulled back from Emma.

"Bae...is that really you?" Rumpel took one step toward his son and winced when Bae took one step back. "You came back."

"Not for you," Bae snapped. The wounds in Rumpel's heart stretched wider. "I needed to make sure you wouldn't hurt her." Bae nodded in Emma's direction. _That's ridiculous, _Rumpel thought, but of course Bae didn't know how ridiculous it was. Better late than never.

"I would never hurt Emma. You have my word on that. She is...my true love, after all." Rumpel anticipated some kind of shock and disgust from Bae, but he wasn't prepared for the massive explosion his son presented.

"Your _what?!_" Bae screeched, his voice shooting up several notches. Those familiar brown eyes nearly popped out of his head. The disgust followed soon after, his lip curling in a sneer. "True loves? You mean...you two are...have you...gods, have you _done it? Ugh! _She's _my _girlfriend! Or ex-girlfriend."

Bae shuddered, throwing his arms up in the air to block his ears. He sang _la-la-la-la-la, _refusing to hear any more. Rumpel staggered backwards. He whirled around to see Emma with her head hung, looking guilty once more. That must have been what she wanted to tell him.

She and Bae were...had been...together? The way she and him were together?

"You two know each other?" He exclaimed. For a brief moment, his surprise made his voice return to that of the high-pitched imp. Emma bit softly on her lip. No, there was more to this story. He'd bet every strand of gold he spun on it. "_He's _Henry's father?"

Bae grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling over.

"I have a _son?_" Both men swiveled their bewildered gazes to Emma, whose face remained carved of stone. She replaced the dreamcatcher on the windowsill. It gave her the chance to turn her back on father and son.

"Well, this is awkward," she muttered.

...

Emma and Rumpel walked a good distance behind Henry and Neal. Bae. Whatever.

They weren't exactly on good terms with their sons. It pained Emma to remember the way Henry looked at her when he learned she lied to him about his father, as if she'd been nothing but a disappointment. Now he barely exchanged two words with her that weren't in the form of an accusation.

The boys stopped at a local pizza place and Neal promised to treat Henry to the "best slice of pizza in New York." The invitation wasn't extended to Emma or Rumpel.

As the boys disappeared inside the shop, she and Rumpel lingered outside, unwanted. The appetizing scents of garlic and melted cheese carried to their noses. Their feet shuffled on the sidewalk. They stubbornly avoided each other's shy glances.

Someone had to ask it.

"What happens now?" Emma wondered aloud. For the first time since that disastrous reunion in Bae's apartment, Rumpel's brown eyes locked with her hard green ones. "Between..._us?" _

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. Apparently, he was as lost as she was. Wordlessly, he sought out her hand and she let him take it. She didn't resist as he pulled her flush against his body, his cane sliding around her waist to trap her there. Her arm wrapped around his shoulder, her fingers weaving through his silky hair.

"Do you regret it? What we've done?"

Warm memories flashed through her head. Having dinner with him at his house. Making love to him dozens of times, in dozens of places. Falling asleep in the security of his arms. Playing around with the idea of a future they would be able to share together.

With those memories came love, longing, pleasure...not regret. Those had been some of her happiest moments in Storybrooke.

"No," she told him honestly. His lips hovered over hers, his breath teasing her mouth. The cane pushed against her back, urging her ever closer.

"Neither do I."

Then his lips were pressed to hers. It wasn't the kind of hot, hungry kiss that demanded them to move quickly to the next level. It was the kind where he simply poured out his affection for her with a promise that she would always be his. She would always hold his heart in her hands.

When their lips finally parted, they were both breathing heavily, but they were also smiling.

"Now," he answered her question, "we see where the road takes us."

There was plenty of damage for him to repair with Bae, plenty of scars from the past to be ripped open. As far as she was concerned, though, there was no turning back. Shamelessly, he bent his head to kiss her again.

"Aww, come on!"

A disgusted moan sliced through the air. Emma and Rumpel jumped apart to see Bae and Henry standing a few feet away, greasy slices of pizza in their hands. Only Bae looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, the heel of his hand rubbing over his eyes in an attempt to erase the image he just saw.

Oops.

They would have to tread more carefully around Bae. At least until he was used to the idea of them being together.

"I'd advise you to get a room," Bae quipped, "but I'm afraid you'll take me seriously."

...

_**As always, I'd like to thank those that reviewed lately. Your encouragement for me to keep writing never fails to make me smile. **_

_**1994omi: Thank you for all the reviews and requests you've given my collections of one-shots. I love writing Gold/Emma fluff or Rumbelle fluff. Emma knows how it feels to spend a birthday alone, so she didn't want Gold to suffer the same fate. (-; **_

_**Fairy the Freak: Thank you so much for your reviews. I loved every word. Of course, I'm always happy to take requests. I'm glad you're enjoying these one-shots so much and I hope you stick around. **_

_**orthankg1: Thank you, dearie. I always look forward to your reviews. Here's to hoping you keep on reading. **_

_**NyxxNoxx: Thanks for the reading! I agree-I haven't seen many Gold/Emma stories that included True Love's Kiss. I was kind of interested to see if I could make it work. The two do have a lot in common and I like to think they could help each other overcome their troubled pasts. To me, it's part of the reason why this pairing is so interesting and I just wish the show would give us more Emma/Gold interactions.**_


	12. Freedom

_**A/N: Wow, this is a really long one. This was a request from 1994omi, asking for some Emma/Rumpel in the Enchanted Forest during a time where Rumpel was locked up and the curse never happened. I hope this is what you wanted, dearie! **_

_**I want to thank those that reviewed recently as well: Fairy the Freak, orthankg1, DragonRose4, 1994omi, and Grace52319733. I loved the requests I received last chapter and I will be sure to write them in time. **_

_**Freedom**_

_Nya-hahahaha! Hee-hahahaha! Nya-nya-nya-nya-nya!_

"Gods, he never stops laughing, does he?"

One of the guards stationed at the mouth of the mines suppressed a shudder. There were always two guards on duty-one to guard the entrance at all times and the other to be ready to bring the prisoner food or control him if he grew too antsy.

"Whatever magic he's had, I'd like some of it right about now," the other guard grumbled, shaking off a yawn. It was surprisingly easy work to guard Rumpelstiltskin, but also incredibly boring around the clock.

Just as a more powerful yawn stretched his mouth wide, the guard caught a moving shadow in his field of vision. At the mouth of the mines, a cloaked figure strode into view, the long white velvet hood obscuring the face. Judging by the curves that were barely hidden by the cloak, he assumed it was a woman.

"There now! Our prayers have been answered," the guard howled, nudging his partner in the ribs. Barely alert and almost dozing on his feet, the man stumbled and came close to falling over. The cloaked figure stopped in front of them, apparently awaiting permission to pass. The guards blocked her way, never budging. "Are you lost, girl?"

The cloaked figure tried to skirt around them, but one of the guards pushed her back.

"State your business," he ordered gruffly. "Or leave."

"Really? What other business do people have down here? Selling roses?" The voice was husky and strained, as if the girl was purposely distorting it to shield her normal voice. The guards waited. "I am here to see _him. _Rumpelstiltskin. Let me through."

The guards were taken aback by the girl's unwavering confidence. Most women in this land, young or old, were too shy or too scared to speak the Dark One's name even in their heads, convinced he would pop up in their bedrooms. Locking him up did nothing to change that. This one, however, barely quivered.

One of the guards became too curious and flipped back her white hood, revealing the young woman's face. They whistled lowly, recognizing her features instantly.

"Well, well. Princess Emma. You're an awfully long way from home, aren't you? Guess we should have known it was you-you're too cocky for your own good."

Emma shifted some of the loose blonde hair out of her eyes and scowled. That kind of behavior was the reason few people enjoyed her company; she was too hard to handle.

"Says the pair of big, tough guards who yawn while guarding the most powerful man in all the realms," she shot back. One guard rolled his eyes while the other made a show of yawning more widely and loudly.

"Trust me, Princess. He isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. He'll rot in that cell before your parents let him walk free again. Now, why did you wander all the way down here in the dead of the night to see _him?" _

"None of your business," she snapped.

One of the guards moved a little too close for her taste and she swiped at him. She only missed because he jumped back. There was a feral look in their eyes, a carnal desperation they longed to quench. It came from spending too many lonely hours on duty without proper companionship.

"We're much better company than that imp," he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. The unsettling string of laughter bubbled up from the darkness again. "You came here all by yourself. Brave girl. Can you imagine what it would be like if you two guards like us captured the princess' heart?" The guard said to his buddy, all the while letting his drowsy gaze roam over Emma's body. Emma took a careful step back, her shoulders tensed.

"Heart? Who cares about her heart? Think of the _royalty_. Never having to work this shift again." He attempted to grasp Emma's hip, to pull her close, but Emma's instincts were swift.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. She grabbed his hand and twisted it sharply. Something cracked and the guard yowled in agony. Then she punched him hard enough to silence him, his body falling away to the floor. The other guard stood motionless, gawking at her like she had eight heads.

She raised her fist threateningly.

"Are you going to make the same mistake?" The guard held up his hands in surrender, his head shaking wildly on his thick neck. Surely this was more action than he had ever seen on duty.

"N-no, Princess," he stammered. He bowed his head and gestured to the winding dark path, poorly lit by crackling torches on the wall. "Right this way."

"I can find him myself," she said coolly, charging along the dirt path before the guard could object. It wouldn't be hard-all she had to do was follow the sound of laughter.

She knew she was bound to be in trouble for knocking out that guard, among other things, but at the moment she didn't care. There were more pressing issues she wished to settle.

Deep within the blanket of shadows, the laughter ceased. He had heard the commotion and he eyed the monstrous bars of his cage with new interest, his dirty golden fingers wiggling under his chin. _Someone was coming..._

Emma followed the path, her hand sliding over the rocky wall, taking sharp turns and curves until she reached the heart of it and found a set of jagged bars instead of a dead end. The bars resembled the jaws of a ferocious monster, with the most powerful being of this land tucked somewhere in its belly. There was only one dim torch mounted on a wall near his cage, making it difficult to see inside. There were far too many shadows swimming there. Any one of them could be him.

Which one was he? _Where _was he?

"Come closer, dearie. I won't bite..." A high-pitched giggle floated out of the darkness, making Emma's nerves tingle.

She was hesitant to approach the bars since she had no idea of his whereabouts, but she dared to take one step forward, then another. She stopped two feet away from the cage, enough to see anything that might come out of the darkness. He blended in so well.

"Can you see me?" She asked, squinting into the shadows. She peered at the corners, on the floor, even on the ceiling, but there was no sign of movement. She could sense his eyes watching her, though. Observing. Calculating.

"I can see you perfectly. You are a blinding streak of sunlight in this dismal, dark abyss. You can't see me...yet," he taunted.

There were no footsteps to be heard, but his voice kept moving. Almost like he was pacing. Sometimes it was close enough to touch; other times it was far away, in the depths of the cage.

Emma was growing impatient.

"What will it take for me to see you?" She asked boldly, keeping her chin raised. Must he have a price for everything? There was another eerie giggle, echoing off the stone walls.

"Come _closer_," he purred.

His accent sounded thicker when he begged. It was a smooth, velvety sound, alluring, and one that Emma feared she could easily fall in love with. Her feet guided her to the bars, until she was nearly pressed against them. All at once, a shadow leaped apart from the rest.

"_Boo!"_ Emma jumped back, even though he made no move to touch her. He exploded with insane giggles. "Never gets old!"

Infuriation chased away the temporary fright that iced the blood in Emma's veins. She had been one inch away from punching him in the nose like that guard. Who would be laughing then? Not him.

"Do you have to do that? What are you, eight years old?" She growled, the hair on the back of her neck bristling.

The imp had doubled over laughing, but now he straightened up, gliding just near enough to the bars so she could get a good look at him. Large amber eyes, reptilian in nature, gleaming with intelligence. Scaly gray-golden skin all over, though the gray might have been patches of dirt. Stringy, gold-streaked hair that hung a few inches above his shoulders. A lean body, clad in seductive blood-red and black leather, leaving little to the imagination. Even in his cell, he wore power like a second skin, stalking toward her as proudly as a peacock, every muscle brimming with the darkest of magic.

He was unlike any man she had ever known. Too complex a puzzle for her to solve yet.

"Do I look eight years old to you? Try three centuries. I walked this world before your great-great-grandmother did. Lovely woman, if I do say so myself. Though, I must say, you're the spitting image of your fair mother."

Emma froze in place. It shouldn't have surprised her that he knew who she was, since her parents were the ones to imprison him this way. Robbing her of her introduction, it was another thing he managed to hold over her head. And he loved it.

Smug little imp.

"Oh, yes! I know precisely who you are. The first-born daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, the product of _twoo wuv, _Princess..."

He waved his hand rapidly, beckoning her to surrender her real name. It was a well known detail that the Dark One had a thing for names. Emma chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, wondering if it was smart to give him what he wanted.

What was the harm? It was only a name.

"Emma." His eyes lit up like the celebratory fireworks at royal balls.

"_Em-ma,_" he lilted, letting the name roll slowly off his wicked tongue. "What a _lov-er-ly_ name." He continued to hold out his hand in request for hers. That _was _reckless, so she kept her hands safely by her sides, folded under her cloak. He pouted before swooping low in a respectful bow. "Rumpelstiltskin, at your service. What can I do for you? Need a sparkling new gown for your royal ball?"

Emma ignored the jab he made at her title of royalty. She heard he didn't have much love for royals, though that never stopped him from making multiple deals with her parents in the past.

In fact, her parents were part of the reason she was there in the first place.

"I haven't been...very happy lately," she said uneasily. How did people usually strike up deals with the Dark One besides whine about their daily problems? Rumpelstiltskin gasped loudly and pressed a hand to his chest, mocking her with her self-proclaimed unhappiness. "My parents keep finding suitors for me. The number seems to double with every day that goes by. I know they're trying to make me happy, hoping one of them is the right one, but none of them are. I want to escape from it, to see the world and find love on my own terms. I just don't have the means to jump from world to world."

If this worked, somehow she would take the time to explain to her parents about her intentions. This was something she needed to do for herself. Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head and seemed to stare through her for a second. As if she reminded him of someone.

"You royals are never satisfied being at the tippity-top of the world, are you?" Emma's brows furrowed. What did he have against royals? Not all of them were that selfish or proud. Rumpelstiltskin's tongue flicked across his gold-dusted lips. "Tell you what, dearie. I shall arrange for you to go galloping off into the sunset, jumping from world to world..._if..._you take me with you."

That surprised Emma more than anything he had said to her before. She expected a price attached to her request, but she never expected it to be something like this. Here she imagined the price would be her first-born child.

"Why would I agree to take you with me?" Why was he so interested? Was it only the chance to escape his prison? Or was it something else?

For one instant, he shed the mask of the powerful, dark beast in favor of a more human side. That sad, longing look in his eyes...he was searching for something. Or someone. She was about to reach out a hand to him and ask if he was alright, but the moment passed and he snapped back into the persona of the giggling, impish dealmaker, as if that part of him never left.

"It's either that or you'll owe me a favor. Surely you've heard the rumors. I'm a monstrous creature without morals, granting-and demanding-the most unholy of requests."

He certainly sounded like he accepted his sinister reputation. Emma scrunched her nose. It had more to do with her skepticism than the old, foul tray of food in the corner. If you called maggots "food."

"I've seen worse," she declared. It was far too simple to label him a monster, a fearsome evil roaming the world. She doubted he had done even half of the cruel things people claimed.

"So you agree to take me?" Rumpelstiltskin slid close to the bars, his face coming within an inch of hers. Only then did she understand how much he wanted this. His hand rose to brush her cheek and she shivered. His hand was ice-cold, but his touch was alarmingly gentle. "That is my price. Take it or leave it."

Rumpelstiltskin withdrew his hand and stepped back from the bars. He turned his back and started to slink into the shadows again. Emma had the urge to call out to him.

No-he was doing this on purpose. He was pulling her strings, playing some sort of mind game. She had seen the flourish of hope in his eyes. He needed this more than she did. Of course, if she walked away now, her chance would be gone and she would have to confront her parents about the suitors or try to actually like one of them.

She'd rather not.

"Wait," she called out before the darkness swallowed the imp whole. He skipped backwards, awaiting her decision. She sighed. "Deal."

The imp giggled again, the shrill sound winding its way through her ears. He clapped his hands together, as if she had done something worth applauding.

"Splendid! You should know, you'll need my dagger to release me from this cell, which happens to be, oh, under your sweet mother's pillow." She cursed inside her head. She should have known this would not be easy. Her parents should be sound asleep now. If she got caught, there would be no simple way of explaining what she was doing.

Unfortunately, the deal was already struck. The only thing they could do was deny Rumpelstiltskin her end of the bargain and endure his verbal curses.

"I'll get your dagger. Then we leave." She would explain this to her parents. Somehow. Rumpelstiltskin grinned from ear to ear. Dancing his way to the bars again, Emma was startled when he cupped her chin, his amber eyes burning into her green ones.

"Yes, _we _shall."

...

Ever since her sleeping curse, Snow White had become an incredibly heavy sleeper. The world could crash down around her bed and she would never stir. Charming often said she slept like she was dead. It helped to have the security of his arms around her at night, to carry her away into her dreams.

She never felt it when someone's hand slipped under her pillow to retrieve the precious artifact underneath, nor when a pair of lips kissed her cheek. She snoozed soundly in her husband's arms, oblivious to the world.

When she finally woke, it was the early hours of the morning, the sun barely risen, and her husband was shaking her roughly by the shoulder.

"Snow! _Snow! _Wake up! Emma's gone!"

Layer by layer, the fog of sleep thinned around her brain. Charming's cries broke through. _Emma's...gone? Gone where? _She jerked awake and sat up straight in bed, accidentally flinging Charming aside. She started to apologize, but he thrust a piece of paper in her hand.

"Read this."

Emma had left behind a note for them to find. Snow rubbed the last remaining sleep from her eyes and began to read.

_Mama, Papa..._

_ This is the hardest letter I have ever had to write. This is because I have done something you might consider reckless, but I hope you'll be able to understand how much I needed to do it. I have never felt very happy in living out my days as a princess, trapped behind castle walls. I've always wanted to see the world, to meet new people, and to help them in any way I can. You thought I might be lonely behind these walls, so you found me suitor after suitor...The truth is, I need a chance to find love on my own. I need the chance to be free. _

_ I promise I'll come home soon. I'll write to you every day. Please, please, please understand this. I love you both very much. More than I know how to express in words. _

_ Emma. _

"How do we find our daughter?" Charming asked. Already he was on his feet and getting dressed. Snow reread Emma's letter before giving him an answer. _Yes, Emma, I understand. _

"We don't," she said, the page falling to her lap. Charming was halfway to shrugging on a vest when he stopped to gape at her. Didn't he understand? "Charming, our daughter is asking our permission to be happy. What kind of parents are we if we deny her that chance?"

Charming pulled on his vest. Then he planted his hands on his hips and looked at her like she had gone mad.

"Snow, our daughter is out there, somewhere in the Enchanted Forest, alone. There are ogres, trolls, dragons, evil witches, and a number of other threats that could hurt her," he argued, reaching for his sword.

Snow admired how protective he was of their daughter, especially since the memory of Regina's wrath was still so fresh, but she couldn't help wondering if their protection was part of the reason she left. Were they _too _protective of her, _too _afraid of losing her? Were they too hasty in pushing those suitors her way?

All they wanted was for her to be safe and happy.

"Emma is strong and brave. I've seen the way she handles that sword in the courtyard-she's a natural. She promised she would return home to us. We need to have hope and faith in her, Charming."

He knew she was right. It was only because Snow had been out there, on her own and facing the world, that she ever met Charming. If Emma was going to find love, they needed to let her go.

"How is she supposed to see the world? A horse?" There were only a few horses in the stables, even fewer capable of making a long, hard journey. There were many areas in the Enchanted Forest where supplies were scarce and it was a great distance to cover. How could one girl manage it on her own?

Some instinct warned Snow to check under her pillow. Just as she feared, the dagger was gone. _Oh, Emma...not this way...we would have helped you..._

Emma had never been very good about asking them for help. As if running to them would make her less strong.

"She's with Rumpelstiltskin," Snow moaned softly. In the dead of the night, her words cracked like a whip between them. Now Charming was alarmed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"_What?" _He threw his hands up in the air before using them to cover his distraught face. A deep groan issued from his throat. Snow didn't want to imagine Emma being around someone as unpredictable as Rumpelstiltskin, but the dots were connecting.

"She must have gone to him to make a deal. So that she could see the world-or perhaps even _worlds._ The price...was his freedom." Was it any better than Rumpelstiltskin demanding Emma's first-born child?

"What does that mean? Snow, what are we supposed to do?" Charming sank onto the edge of the bed and hung his head. She wouldn't be surprised if he suggested they race down to the mines to head them off. In her heart, she knew the two would be long gone.

_Have hope..._

"We need...to let her go, Charming. Let her do what she has to do. She's with the most powerful man in the realms-nothing will touch her." Except Rumpelstiltskin himself, of course. She bit back a rush of bile as she pictured that imp's hands on her daughter. Her beautiful daughter, who was more woman than girl. "He won't hurt her."

"How do you know that?" Charming said angrily, his forehead lined with exhaustion and worry. "You know what he's capable of."

"If Emma doesn't return to us," Snow said darkly. "If I ever find him, I'll deny him a second chance. For our daughter, I'll demand his head. Then he'll never find whatever it is he's searching for."

...

Rumpelstiltskin was restless, more so than usual. He was anxious, frightened, and excited all at the same time. He couldn't seem to stop moving around his cell, crawling over the ceiling, bouncing from wall to wall, and finally settling on his stomach and kicking his legs gleefully.

Emma, Emma, _Em-ma. _

Emma promised to release him from this miserable prison. He could tell when someone was lying and she was not. Soon he would have another opportunity to find his son. _Bae..._

His curse fell through when Regina, the monster he was planning to manipulate, somehow plunged off a cliff and got herself squashed by a boulder. The details were murky. No one was keen on keeping him up to date on the outside world while he was stuck in there, though the guards liked to talk to each other.

The guards were talking now.

Rumpelstiltskin stopped kicking his legs to listen closely. His head shot up when he caught the sweet sound of Emma's voice, chewing out one of the guards. She was here-she had come back! She had kept her word! Of course she did. It was only because she wanted him to hold his end of the deal, nothing more.

Nonetheless, he happily leaped to his feet when he noticed her beautiful gold and white form standing outside the cell. From her cloak, she took out the dagger.

He thought he might be falling head over heels.

"So how do I...do this?" Emma playfully twirled the dagger through her fingers like a baton. He was hesitant to inform her of the workings of the dagger, but he had no choice if he wanted to be free. Someone had to give him permission to leave his cell.

"You hold the dagger, confidently might I add, and ask me, very politely, if I would care to step outside my cell. Piece of cake," he explained.

Speaking of cake, the first thing he would do when he was free was conjure an entire buffet of the most tasty treats and devour the entire table. With cherries on top. Anything was better than that slop they served him.

Emma extended the dagger in front of her. Oh, it was close enough to grab, but he knew if he tried he would face excruciating agony. He had to be patient. _Come on, come on, come on..._His hands drummed against the bars.

"Rumpelstiltskin, I would like you to step out of your cell. Please. I release you from it," Emma spoke in a calm, firm voice. That was the voice of a queen.

_Finally!_ Rumpel gripped the bars, summoning his greatest magic to pry them apart. Nothing in the world felt better than being able to join Emma on the other side. He brushed off the dirt and stretched his arms high above his head, enjoying the unlimited space.

"Thank you, _Princess_. Now, if you would be so kind..." He held out his hand for the dagger. For a moment, Emma kept it beyond his reach and he narrowed his eyes. He couldn't attack her with his magic while she held the dagger, but she didn't have to know that. "That's not funny, dearie."

"I'm not laughing, am I?" She retorted. There was quite a temper on this one. "How do I know you won't hurt me once I hand over the dagger? You'll be in control of your power again and you won't need me anymore. You can walk out of here and go wherever you please."

That was true, but he didn't have any sudden urge to break his deal. Nor to kill this strong, fierce young woman.

"You have my word," he swore. The only deal he ever broke was the one he most regretted. He would not make that mistake twice. Emma considered her options for a second longer. Then she came to her senses and offered the dagger to him.

The minute his hand curled around the blade, he tugged hard on it, yanking her straight into his arms. She fit perfectly, the puzzle piece he could never find. Emma instinctively grabbed his shoulders to steady herself and he took the opportunity to wrap his arm around her waist, holding her close.

Close enough to kiss.

"You gave your word-"

"I'm not hurting you...am I?"

She bit down on her lip and he couldn't help but feel something stir deep inside him. How long had it been since he had a beautiful woman in his arms, one that didn't recoil or faint at the sight of him?

"You are far more reasonable than those two lovebirds," he said, tracing the tip of the dagger down her cheek. Emma didn't flinch, nor did she lower that chin. _Such a brave princess. _"I know you, _Em-ma, _far better than you think. You are a desperate soul, same as me."

Footsteps bounded along the path, headed their way. It must be the two pathetic guards, coming to see what the fuss was about. When they saw him standing outside his cell, with Emma in his arms, their faces turned pale as fresh milk.

"How did he-?"

Then they noticed the dagger poking through Emma's curls. It was the last thing they saw. Rumpel snapped his fingers and the two guards transformed into two wriggling maggots on the ground. _Serves them right, _he thought with a sneer.

"That wasn't very nice," Emma scolded him when he giggled. She broke free of his arms, careful not to step on the two maggots crawling away.

"_They _weren't very nice, were they? I simply gave them what they deserved." Here he did her an enormous favor and she wasn't the least bit grateful. Instead she pursed her pretty pink lips and glared at him with those shiny green eyes, so alike her mother's.

Something strange came over him then-he deemed her quite kissable. What would it be like to break through her walls? He liked a good challenge.

"Tell me, dearie...have you ever been kissed before?" He attempted to circle her, like he did with most customers, but she matched his steps flawlessly, forever keeping him in her line of sight. Didn't she trust him at all?

"Yes," she admitted. No doubt by those tasteless suitors her parents found. He dared to take one step forward, forcing her to take one step back.

"By someone who was interested in you for more than your wealth and title?" This time, she didn't answer. Those fiery green eyes flickered to the ground. Ah, that was the problem. Too many people suffocating her, using her for personal gain. "Didn't think so."

Another step forward. Emma didn't realize it, but she was about to slam her back into the bars of his cell. She eyed him distrustfully.

"How do I know you're not interested in my wealth and title?" Now that was worth a good laugh. He was already the most powerful, most feared man in the realms, but _King _Rumpel? Nah. He shook his head.

"Someone once told me I spun more gold than I could ever spend." His heart throbbed dully for Belle. It had been a very long time since he last thought of her. Emma reminded him a little of his lost love-beautiful, intelligent, passionate, brave. "As for your title, I have no interest in being a grumpy, old king on a throne listening to the little people whine. I'm exactly where I want to be. I must admit, you're not bad company."

Another step. This time, Emma's back collided with the bars and her eyes widened. She was gorgeous when she blushed.

"That wasn't part of our deal," she protested. Rumpel decided to continue this dance by stepping back, giving her the space she needed.

"Are you afraid of me?" The fire in her eyes burned stronger than ever.

"No." He believed it. He liked it. The corners of his lips stretched. How could he resist?

"Prove it."

It seemed Emma liked a good challenge, too.

One minute her back was pressed against the bars; the next she was pressed against _him, _her arms entwined around his neck, and her mouth hot on his lips. It was a short, close-mouthed kiss, but it stole his breath away. His mind buzzed when she pulled back, her cheeks glowing pink, her green eyes glazed.

"Happy?" Oh, yes.

Slipping the dagger into his vest, his hands flew to her waist and he returned her kiss twicefold. She didn't fight, though she certainly liked to nip his bottom lip. Ooh, she was feisty.

They stumbled backwards and he pressed her once more to the bars, sliding his hands along those jagged teeth while he deepened their kiss. This was dangerous, this was foolish, this was crazy...and neither one cared.

The most miraculous part was when she finally let her walls slip and she opened up to him. Her lips parted, letting his tongue snake inside to explore to his heart's content. She moaned under his mouth and he swallowed every delicious sound. His hips melded seamlessly over hers, his leather pants far too skin-tight to disguise his liking for her. Her hands delved into his hair and even tugged a little, causing his mouth to open wider to her.

It was a dangerous game they were playing. A battle for dominance and he wasn't sure which one was winning. He would have bet his money on her.

They had to stop this. Before it went too far. Before they made a mistake.

Emma was the one to do it. Her walls went up again, logic slammed back into her brain, and she broke the kiss, shoving him away. She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her cloak, though he noticed how her tongue ran across her lips to savor his taste. Both of them were flushed and breathing heavily. With Rumpel's golden skin, it was harder to tell the difference.

He put his hand to his heart and felt it pounding. That weak, broken thing.

"That...is the most I've felt alive in years," he gasped.

"Yeah," she agreed. His eyebrows rose. They had agreed on something, other than a deal. There were miracles, after all. When she caught her breath, she led him up the dirt path, toward the entrance of the mines. Toward their freedom. "Let's go."

They didn't talk about what passed between them.

"As you wish, Princess."

...


	13. Room for Two

_**A/N: This is a one-shot that I have been looking forward to writing ever since orthankg1 requested it. Consider this a small one-shot sequel to the M anhattan one, where Bae deals with Rumpel and Emma being together. Only this time they're renting a room at the Inn...**_

_**I hope I fulfilled your request the way you expected, dearie! **_

_**I also want to thank everyone that gave me such good reviews for the last one-shot. I'm glad so many people enjoyed it. Someone suggested that it would make for a good story instead of a one-shot. In fact, I had so many ideas after I wrote it that I ended up doing just that. If you're interested, the story is called "Free Me" and I have the first two chapters already uploaded. **_

_**Room for Two**_

It took exactly three drinks for Gold and Emma to come to the conclusion that getting a room at Granny's Inn was a brilliant idea. One drink was to celebrate the fact that Gold finally succeeded in finding his long-lost son. The second drink had been Emma's doing, a toast for Gold's survival and the defeat of Cora. The third drink was strictly for the hell of it.

By the time their glasses were empty, they had agreed that it would only be beneficial if they move their date to the inn. Emma practically dragged him out the door by his tie while he threw too much cash on the counter for their drinks.

They stopped at the _Game of Thorns _and purchased a bouquet of red roses on the way. How could they have a private evening in Granny's Inn without flower petals? Half of the petals were gone before they even reached the inn, strewn across the streets of Storybrooke in their wake.

"Are we there yet?" Emma groaned impatiently. She clung to Gold's arm as they strode up the walkway to the inn. Three drinks weren't enough to make her slur her words or stumble, but she was certainly more open with her emotions.

She smiled his way much easier, their kisses were more passionate in public than usual, and she was obviously eager to consummate their love. Again. He didn't blame her-just the day before, he was inches from death by Cora's hands. There was an unspoken agreement between them now: no holding back. No more being afraid.

So they wound up at the inn.

"Here we are, sweetheart," he sang, planting a warm kiss on the crown of her head. As he pulled open the door, leaning his bad side against Emma for support, one more rose petal broke off from the bouquet, drifting down onto Granny's porch.

Granny peered at them over the rims of her glasses when they entered and approached the front desk, limbs half-entangled already. They couldn't seem to stop touching each other in little ways, as if one might disappear in the blink of an eye. Weaving their fingers through their hair, twisting one of the buttons on their shirts, fingertips grazing over lips and cheeks and hands.

"One room for the night, if you please," Gold requested without ever removing his eyes from Emma. It was spoken with enough finality to warn Granny that he would not take _no _for an answer.

Granny studied Gold suspiciously up and down, then did the same to Storybrooke's Sheriff. Thankfully, she was used to this sly sort of behavior, having dealt with almost three decades of it from Regina and Graham, so she passed over the silver key.

"Don't break the bed," she grumbled and dismissed them by returning her attention to the books spread widely over the front desk. Gold brushed the petals over Emma's bright pink cheek, exchanging with her an excited smirk.

"We can't make any promises," he replied silkily, winking at Emma. After coming so close to death's door, he never felt this alive in years. Emma teased him by running her hands over his chest, popping the buttons as she went. When most of his chest was exposed, her fingers switched to dancing along his skin, memorizing every inch.

If they carried on this way, they would never reach the stairs, much less the room.

Granny slammed her fist down on the table, making them jump apart and out of their skins.

"Oh, take it upstairs!" She bellowed. They continued on their way, mounting the stairs faster than they would have liked in order to escape Granny's cold glare. Gold dipped his head in the space between Emma's neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses from her jaw to her ear.

"I would have liked to carry you up the stairs," he whispered in her ear. If it weren't for his gnarled leg...

"I don't care how we get up the stairs, so long as we can finish what we started. Or should I say what _you _started, since you offered to buy me a drink in the first place," she replied, swaying and leading him down the hall. It was easy enough to locate the room-it had belonged to Emma before Granny kicked her out.

Emma inserted the key in the lock and jiggled it hastily, fumbling with the door. Her boot kicked the bottom of it forcefully. Meanwhile Gold deeply inhaled the sweet fragrance of the roses. It only encouraged the lustful haze sweeping over his brain. The door finally burst open after much cursing on Emma's part and the first thing she did was hang a _Do Not Disturb _sign on the knob. Then she tugged Gold inside by his lapels.

"Now...where were we?" She dove in for a kiss.

"Wait," he said, blocking her kiss with the bouquet of roses. Emma had no choice but to pull back, suddenly annoyed that she didn't get what she wanted. "I don't want to just..._do it. _Let me spread some of these petals first. I want this to be special for us."

Emma flounced down on the bed, arms spread out, hips bucking upwards. Her blonde hair fanned out across the sheets, a golden halo. Gold had an unbearable urge to do away with the bouquet and fulfill her every desire then and there.

"Why do you have to be the romantic type? Not the get-down-and-dirty type?" Gold looked uncertainly from Emma to the bouquet of roses in his hand. Should he spread the petals or no? He didn't want this to feel like a meaningless romp; he wanted this to be perfect and to behold a promise of more to come. Emma caught him stalling and waved him onward. "Go ahead. Scatter petals to your heart's content."

So he did.

Gold had to drop his cane, so he momentarily slid it between Emma's legs. At least it would be safe. He unwrapped the bouquet, tossing the pink cellophane over his shoulder. He sniffed the flowers once more before plucking off the petals, scattering handfuls of them on the floor, the bedside table, and lastly around Emma's entire body. The stems joined the cellophane on the floor.

"Now," he mimicked her previous eagerness and removed the cane from between her legs, letting it fall to the floor. He straddled her hips and placed his hands on either side of her head. Emma smiled invitingly and her hips ground against his, nearly throwing him into a frenzy. "Where were we?"

He bent his head to capture her mouth. Emma murmured something against his lips. At first he assumed it was a pleasurable moan and kissed her even harder, his hand moving to cup the back of her neck and his tongue swiping playfully over hers, savoring her taste. She tugged his hair, wrenching his head back so she could breathe.

"You...left...the door...open," she gasped, her chest rising and falling heavily. It was a shame that chest was still clothed. Gold didn't have the energy to get up from the bed or tear himself away from Emma's embrace, so he flicked his wrist. A pinch of magic and the door slammed closed.

"There. Anything else we've managed to overlook?" Emma's cloudy green eyes roamed the room, but she shook her head.

"Not that I can see," she said, her gaze returning to his face. Her palms rubbed his bare shoulders, coaxing out the knots and shoving aside his dress shirt. Then her hands moved smoothly along his sides, down to his hips, tracing over the line of his pants. "Speaking of what I can see...you're overdressed."

"So are you," he countered. "How are we ever to celebrate properly?" He unzipped her leather jacket and she helped him pry it from her body.

"We should do something about that," she suggested, her voice deliciously husky as she anticipated what they were about to do.

"Immediately," he agreed, slipping out of his dress shirt once and for all.

Her shirt, his pants, her jeans...article by article of clothing was discarded into a heap at the foot of the bed. Every ounce of fabric stripped until they were bare and no longer hidden from each other. Emma paused only once to caress the fresh pink scar on his chest, a sign of the wound Hook had given him in Manhattan.

"To think...I came so close to losing you," she murmured sadly. He gently took her hand and raised it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, her palm, and every last fingertip. This wasn't the time for mourning.

"I'm here," he promised. If he had any say in the matter, she wouldn't have to fear losing him again. She had lost more in twenty-eight years than most people did in their entire lives. "I'll stay with you, so long as you'll have me."

Emma's answer to that was another soft kiss on his lips. He gladly returned it. Then they were content to lounge peacefully in the arms of the other, the petals crushed beneath their bodies, for what felt like forever.

...

"I don't know about you, but I had a terrible time sleeping last night," Bae openly complained the next morning. He shared a booth at the diner with Henry, Emma, and his father. When neither one showed any interest in his complaint, he added: "There was an extremely noisy couple across the hall. They kept going at it all night. It sounded like they broke the bed."

Emma picked up her head long enough to give Bae a scolding look for being so blunt about it in front of Henry. Then she and Gold continued to keep their eyes downcast, focused on their menus. Occasionally they snuck each other guilty looks.

After their late-night celebration, they had slept soundly together.

Was Bae staring too much? Did he suspect anything?

"Maybe you should ask Granny who they were," Henry suggested to Bae, which only made Emma and Gold stiffen in their seats. Their feet nudged together under the table, carrying a silent message: _we might be in trouble. _

Bae hadn't yet warmed up to the relationship his ex-girlfriend currently had with his father, of all people. In fact, after three drinks, they forgot he was staying in the Inn. Originally Gold had offered him a room in his house, but Bae had refused. So naturally, they hadn't made any effort to keep quiet last night.

Emma distinctly remembered screaming Gold's name on more than one occasion.

Oops.

When Emma lifted her head to survey the damage, she found Bae still staring, waiting for any kind of response that might give them away. He must know. She decided to handle it the best way she knew how, at least in front of her son: she changed the subject.

"Anyone in the mood for bagels?"

...


	14. A Little Taste

_**A Little Taste**_

"One hot chocolate with a pinch of cinnamon," Emma ordered, slumping down onto a bar stool.

"The usual. Got it," Ruby grinned wolfishly and glided away to fill the order.

Emma rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the knots. It had been a tiring day. Hell, between listening nonstop to Henry's theory of fairy tales, fighting with Regina, and running the station, it had been another tiring week. What she needed now was a hot drink to soothe her nerves.

"Remarkable," someone commented softly not far behind her stool. There was no mistaking the voice. There was only one man in town with a silky Scottish accent. She rotated on her stool to face Gold, her eyebrows raised questioningly. "Your usual drink happens to be the same for Miss Blanchard."

Without asking her permission, he settled down on the stool directly beside hers, propping his cane against the next empty stool. She supposed he felt entitled to it, since he owned the town. How could a man with a cane move so gracefully? Or be so intimidating?

"So we have the same taste in drinks. It's not exactly rare for two people to have something in common, Gold," she replied tersely.

"Indeed."

His lips curled slowly and then split apart to give her a glimpse of his gold tooth. Why did he have to stare at her that way? As if he had the ability to peer into her heart of hearts? Somehow, she couldn't look away. Whenever she was in his presence, it seemed the rest of the world paled in comparison.

"I prefer a warm cup of tea myself. Personally, I never saw the appeal of adding cinnamon to hot cocoa," he said.

Ruby placed Emma's drink down on the bar. She looked expectantly at Gold, but he shook his head slightly. Emma admired her delicious drink. Extra cream, extra cinnamon on top, and a rich blend of chocolate. Before she took a sip, though, a curious thought struck her.

"Have you ever tried it?" She inched her cup in Gold's direction. He eyed it warily, his tongue tracing his upper lip. Then his mouth twisted in a pout and he pretended to be busy straightening his tie.

"No," he admitted quietly. She thought so. Gold didn't strike her as the type to embrace change. "I've never sipped poison, either, but I know without firsthand experience that it won't bode well." Emma rolled her eyes. Sometimes Gold could be more of a drama queen than a devil to deal with.

"This isn't poison. It's hot chocolate. Believe me; it won't kill you." She shoved the mug of hot chocolate under his nose. "Try it. Then if you don't like it, at least you'll know for certain."

Gold scrunched his nose, as though the aroma of that creamy chocolate was not sweet, but foul. Seeing that she would not back down, he accepted the cup and gradually brought it to his lips.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered and tipped the cup to his mouth. She watched as he gingerly sipped the drink. His lips smacked together as he savored the unfamiliar taste and a dazed look crossed his brown eyes. Then, almost in a trance, he took another, deeper gulp.

Afterward, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin, but he missed the tiny spot of cream on the tip of his nose. Emma chewed the inside of her lip and decided not to tell him.

"So? Isn't it good?" Gold was far too quiet, even for his usual reserved behavior. Turning his piercing gaze on her, he studied her in awe, his hand still wrapped around the mug.

"Mmm...yes," he moaned blissfully. He passed the mug back to her. Even though he spared only half her drink, she smiled proudly, having introduced him to something he didn't already know. For once, she was the one acting smug.

"I told you so."

Ruby came around again to offer Emma a refill. The waitress regarded Gold coolly, yet politely, awaiting his request as he held up a finger. Then he pointed that finger directly at Emma.

"I'll have what she's having."


	15. Staring

_**A/N: Well, I don't know about you, but I feel like it's been a long time since I've written or uploaded anything. My real life has been so busy lately that I can't even write for an hour a day. Thankfully, though, I was able to write up this one-shot. I want to thank those that have waited patiently for it and have reviewed recently. **_

_**For those who are reading my story "It's Only Breakfast, Dearie," just know that I am slowly but surely writing up the next chapter. It should be finished soon. Enjoy the one-shot!**_

_**Staring **_

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

The way he smiled, talked, laughed...the way his perfectly manicured nails and warm, healthy-looking skin grazed Belle's hand time and again. No matter how much she stared at that man across the diner, she could not understand how that manical, giggling, golden imp of the past translated into the soft-spoken, subtle, gentlemanly-when-he-wanted-to-be man she came to know. The dark image in her head didn't add up with the sight of Gold delightfully conversing with Belle.

The only thing that was remotely similar was the intense pain reflected in his eyes whenever he was reminded of his lost son.

Even his eyes were startlingly different. The imp's eyes had been strictly cold, guarded, and menacing. While Gold's eyes could hold as much malice, she also knew they were capable of being gentle and inviting. Then there was the shade. The imp's eyes had been shimmering, wide, and amber in hue. Reptilian in appearance, they were almost frightening to look upon. Gold's eyes were a deep brown, seemingly endless, the color of freshly turned earth.

She stared as Gold chuckled at something Belle said. The laugh was soft and brief, his head bent in modesty. It was a far cry from the shrill, mocking giggle she heard from the Dark One in the Enchanted Forest. She could never imagine in her strangest whiskey-laced dreams that Gold would be able to create such an eerie sound.

Emma tilted her head this way and that, thoroughly puzzled, the glass in her hand all but forgotten. How was it possible that Gold and Rumpelstiltskin were one and the same? She had seen both with her own eyes, but it was hard to believe they were the same man.

She drew in a sharp breath. She swore Gold's eyes had flickered her way, if only for an instant. Dipping his head close to Belle's ear, he whispered something and kissed her palm. Then he abruptly rose from the table and began to stroll her way.

Emma's gaze snapped downward, to the glass in her hand. As if she hadn't been staring.

Maybe he was headed for the restroom. Maybe he was ordering two more drinks from Red. There was no way he would-

Someone sat down on the stool beside her. She didn't have to look up to know it was him. Already her nose caught the musk of his cologne. She sensed his eyes roving slowly over her body, waiting patiently, and she knew she had to look up sometime.

When she did, she flew headfirst into those endless dark eyes. He was staring. She had the feeling this was his way of mocking her without words. Playing her game. Instantly her walls hardened. It wasn't like she had done anything wrong. _Since when is it a crime to look? _

"What do you want?" Emma asked roughly. Maybe she could make him feel like the one at fault here. However, Gold saw through her ruse, not even batting an eye.

"I should ask you the same question, _Em-ma,_" he purred.

Would the impish Rumpelstiltskin have pronounced her name the way Gold so often did? As if he relished the sound of it on his tongue? She had never told him her real name. Gold's lips curled and split, revealing his gleaming gold tooth. That was the sort of sly look that did strange things to her belly.

"After all," he continued, "_you _were the one doing the staring."

Emma's neck grew warm under the collar of her jacket. She fidgeted in her seat. The accusation wasn't necessarily uncalled for, but still Emma grew defensive. She didn't want to give this man the satisfaction of holding it over her head. No need to encourage more of his smugness.

"I was not-" She tried to object, but Gold's smile stretched. Only a little, but enough to warn her he was not buying her denial.

"Yes, you were. Intently." He loomed closer on his seat and she edged back, nearly falling off her stool in the process. "Since you appear so desperate for my attention, I decided to grant it. Now you owe me an explanation. Why were you staring? Are you harboring some secret desire that remains frustratingly unsatisfied?"

Emma's heart jumped into her throat, blocking any protest she might have made. She instinctively scooted backward again, but her arms flailed over the bar when her bottom moved into open air. Gold yanked her back from falling and she came close to landing in his lap. It didn't help her sort through her thoughts.

The nerve of him, suggesting such a thing. Obviously he was doing all he could to dig under her skin. So what if there was a seductive air of mystery about him? So what if he wore suits more fashionably than any other man in town? So what if she noticed? It didn't mean she was attracted to him.

Did it?

"Don't be rude," she said with a scowl. She was sure the heat in her face gave her away. Gold held up his hands, feigning surrender.

"Ah, look who's calling the kettle black," he retorted. "I was always taught that it was rude to stare. So, Emma, _why were you staring?_" He repeated his question with twice the force. It was the first time since he walked over that he sounded irritated.

Emma bit down on her bottom lip, hesitating. He didn't even remember her accidental visit to the past, all thanks to the power of one forgetting potion.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said. Nothing she ever said could dislodge those memories. To him, it only came off as another attempt to wiggle out of this unnerving situation. Emma took her eyes off Gold and brought her glass to her lips. No bitter liquid trickled into her mouth-her glass was empty. How disappointing.

Gold chuckled again. That surprisingly human sound. Then he did the most amazing thing: he gently placed his hand on top of Emma's on the bar, rubbing it comfortingly. Emma's nerves tingled with every stroke of his fingers.

"My dear," he sighed, clasping her hand a little tighter. "After all we've been through...after everything you've come to embrace in this town...you doubt I would believe you? Try me," he challenged.

Emma was too aware of his hand over hers and the way he observed her like a hungry serpent. Thankfully Red refilled Emma's glass-giving Gold a warning look before she walked away-and Emma took the opportunity to down half of it. She needed it after all she had been through recently.

Then she told him everything.

She told him how she fell into Zelena's time portal, fell into the Enchanted Forest of the past. She told him, with great regret, how she had almost prevented her parents from meeting and how the book had changed. She told him about the imp, who was so different from the man sitting beside her, whose only purpose was to find his son.

Afterwards, she let Gold have a silent moment to absorb it. He blinked, his mouth twisted like he sucked on a lemon, but he did not speak. He eyed the glass in her hand, as if wondering whether alcohol contributed to this wild story.

"You're right," he finally stated. "I don't believe it. Because it never happened." That was the only part Emma had left out. How she convinced his past self to take a forgetting potion. She remembered the despair on his face when he learned of his son's death and the emptiness when his hand released hers.

And Gold's hand continued to caress hers now.

"It did happen," she insisted, turning on her stool to face him fully. "You drank a forgetting potion before letting me go back home. That's why you don't remember anything. Isn't there some way to, I don't know, counter the effects of that potion?"

It was taking her some time to get used to the logic of magic.

Gold stared at her dreamily.

"Perhaps," he mumbled. His hand slipped away from hers, freeing her from his grasp. "Now that my curiosity is satisfied, I'm afraid I must return to Belle. It's rude to keep a lady waiting." Without another word, he got up from the stool, smoothed his impeccable suit, and returned to Belle's side.

Emma gulped down the rest of the drink, paid, and left the diner. She was done staring for the night.

...

He waited until Belle was sound asleep before going down into the basement. Once there, he spent the late hours of the night mixing a counter potion to the forgetting potion. It was his first time making one since he never felt the need for it before.

When the potion was done, he held it up to the light, examining it with tired eyes. A clear vial filled with a thin red substance. It resembled rich red wine, but he had no hopes that the potion would taste as heavenly.

_Here goes nothing, _he thought and tossed back the contents of the vial. It was horribly sweet and clung to the roof of his mouth. He smacked his lips together and ran his tongue over his teeth to get rid of the sickly-sweet taste. More than once, he gagged.

At first, nothing happened. There were no alarming physical changes to his body. His mind was quiet. As the seconds ticked by, he started to think the potion was defective. Or maybe memories that were magically forgotten could not be retrieved.

Then his brain exploded with light, such intense light that he had to clench his eyes shut. He stumbled back into the worktable and held the edge of it, his legs threatening to give out. Something unlocked inside his mind and forgotten memories flooded back.

He remembered discovering Hook and a peasant girl in the middle of the forest. He would have gladly killed the pirate if the girl-Emma-hadn't mentioned..._Bae. _Another flash and a new image: Henry's storybook laid out on the dining table in his castle and Emma restlessly flipping through blank pages. Emma clad in a gorgeous scarlet gown of his magical making. The vault, his threat to hold her back from the portal until she told him about his son. The tears shining in her eyes when she revealed that Bae would die a hero after ultimately forgiving him.

The drinking of the forgetting potion.

It all came back to him.

His mind quieted once more, the memories settling into place, woven with all the rest. His chest heaved as he drew in short breaths. His knuckles were white, his hand gripping the table for dear life. Emma was right. It had happened, as she described.

It all made sense now.

"So _that's _what I was doing down there!"

...


End file.
